A Friend at the Table
by Harpy101
Summary: A series. These are the moments I craved to see, as Anna falls more in more in love, beginning at the end of S1 E1. Some interstitial moments, and Anna's stream of consciousness in certain scenes. These are not my characters.
1. Chapter 1

Daisy's knock hit Anna like a thunderbolt. She jolted up, the reality of the day smashing into her eyes and her brain. For the first time ever since starting service at Downton, she wanted to be somewhere else.

She might have slept an hour all night. Her eyes were still sore from crying, her face numb, her hair tangled. She pushed out a breath and allowed herself a moment to hate the entire household. She had loved her position, until yesterday. Now there was a rip down the middle of everything. She almost wanted to tell them all how she felt. And His Lordship, too.

They sent him away. He had left this morning. Anna felt the tears starting again and pushed them down. It would be a very long day if she started it this way. Better to be angry than grieve. She would hold her anger like a little flame to keep herself simmering through the day.

A thought cheered her; maybe word would come from him, or about him from some quarter. It wouldn't be improper to ask if she waited a few weeks, and His Lordship would tell her, if he knew.

Now she wanted to weep again. What if he came upon terrible times? What if he'd returned to a terrible place? It seemed he had put all his effort into Downton and he had done a very fine job, better and better every day, helping others whenever he could, and still-

_Stop, stop. S_he told herself, _Lose yourself in the work. Have breakfast. Maybe some day there would be a way to find him, to see him._

"Maybe we'll get word of him someday, when he's settled at a new place," said Gwen, who had been sneaking glances at her, and Anna's throat closed. Gwen put an arm around her.

"Why did everyone have to be so horrid to him?"

Gwen's voice was gentle, "We've all got our work to do-"

"And he helped everyone, whenever he could! He helped one hundred times more than Thomas ever does! Why-"

"Shh, shh," Gwen patted her back, "You don't want anyone to hear you making a fuss, now. Let's get our first duties done, quick time. We would go down the village tomorrow," she added brightly. Anna hugged Gwyn, then began to comb out her own tangled hair.

It did help, to throw herself into the work. Anna washed her hands and was sitting at the table with the rest of the staff when she heard the back door open. Then her heart stopped. The sound of the uneven step and the cane were unmistakable. She glimpsed the shadow of his profile passing into the hall, then heard him taking the stairs.

She stood with the others as Mr. Carson entered the dining hall. He cleared his throat.

"Mr. Bates will not be leaving Downton after all,"

Anna gasped, but she bit down hard on it. No one seemed to have heard her. They were all staring at Mr. Carson.

"But why not?" said O'Brien.

"That is His Lordship's affair and it is no business of ours. Since Mr. Bates will not be leaving, William, I would like to revisit your offer to help with certain duties-"

William nodded. "It won't be a problem, Mr. Carson. Mr. Bates always pitches in, in other ways. It'll all even out,"

"What's your idea of even?" shot Thomas.

"This is His Lordship's decision, and it is final," said Mr. Carson, glaring down the table, "And we will speak no more on it. Is that clear?"

Anna's pulse pounded in her temples. She excused herself and left the table, under the watchful eye of O'Brien. Fine. Let her stare, let her spread nastiness. It wouldn't matter, especially not now.

Anna ran to her room and looked in the mirror. She pinched her cheeks and bit her lips, giving herself a little color. There were dark circles under her eyes but she could do nothing for that. She took a long look at her hair. Then she wandered into the hall, moving slowly. She stood at the top of the stairs, smoothing her apron.

The door on the men's side opened and there he was, somehow taller than she remembered. He hadn't seen her yet and she caught sight of the man he didn't allow others to see, that lost look, the battered street urchin innocence under the solemn dignity. He moved more slowly than usual and he was a bit pale; she imagined he might be tired. Anna couldn't think of a thing to say but she waited for him, rocking on her toes and gripping the stair rail.

His eyes landed on her and his smile began before he could slow it down. He was almost in a full grin before he pulled it back to an acceptable expression. He paused, leaning on his cane, and they looked at each other.

"Good morning," she said, and a rush of breath escaped her. She put her hand on her mouth and then, in a moment of embarrassment, had to blink a few times to swallow her relief. She laughed, a raw sound. "I'm sorry," she said.

"Please don't be sorry,"

Anna gathered her wits, coughing gently and clearing her throat. She looked into his eyes.

"I'm so glad you're back, that you're not leaving,"

"I'm glad, as well,"

"I'm very glad," said Anna. His eyes were so kind. She gripped the stair rail to prevent herself from throwing her arms around his neck. She looked at the floor to regain her balance.

"You must be hungry," she said, "And there's a full day ahead,"

"Mr. Carson announced the news, then?"

"Yes, at the breakfast table. We should hurry,"

He took a breath. "I've forgotten something, in my room,"

"Oh?"

"Please go ahead of me, I will see you at breakfast,"

"Oh," she said, understanding. He was protecting her from any suspicion of impropriety or perhaps from association with him, and her first instinct was to argue. But this was not the time. He did look tired.

"Will you save me a seat?" he asked, his eyes sparkling now.

"Of course. I always do,"

"You always do," he said.


	2. Chapter 2

Although Anna needed to mend Lady Mary's dress quickly, being next to Mr. Bates at the table was calming. He was smoking and finishing his morning tea. The discussion of the new heir went round and round with the usual snipes from the usual parties; Anna did hope that Thomas would gather a lot of details at dinner, though even the news of a new heir and of a possible big change coming to them all could not hold her attention as it used to. Anna took part in the conversation, but it seemed at an odd distance.

Mr. Bates was here, he was next to her, they were friends and had no need to discuss the fact. They had an understanding. It was like a warm hearth in January, just to sit next to him. Anna found herself hoping he would delay in starting his late morning work. Since the close call of him nearly leaving, she couldn't seem to get enough of him.

It was an attraction, Anna wouldn't have denied it. But it was much more than that.

She felt at home next to him. He seemed to be made of the same stuff she was. _Cut from the same cloth_, she thought, and that was what it felt like. She was never alone when he was there. In fact, just knowing he was in the world made her feel calmer, more at ease, and more at home anywhere she might be. And the closer he happened to be, the better she felt.

She admired the breadth of his shoulders as he leaned over the table to tap the ash off his cigarette. He had quite an athletic build, which most people would not see. They were blinded by the cane. Anna watched the way he took corners on his good leg, the way he took the stairs, and knew. He must have cut quite a figure at one time. But she wondered, would he have been the same person, before the war? As a young footman was he a dandy, a flirt, a peacock? Could he still hit those notes if he wanted to? Had he left a mess of shattered hearts in his wake?

There was a lot she didn't know.

But one very important thing was clear: he was a good man. If not before, then he had grown into one. He was kind and patient, he always had a moment to instruct or encourage someone without lording his knowledge over them. His gentle humor was a balm to almost everyone. These thoughts circled in her mind while her eyes moved over his profile, the fine line of nose and chin and the neat sideburns. He turned his head slightly to look at her. He had caught her staring. But he didn't mock her for it.

His eyes went right into hers, deep and soft. She held that tender, unmistakable gaze as long as she dared. Her lips parted; she needed more air. He smiled an almost hidden smile, a smile just for her.

"I'd best get on," he said so quietly that only she could hear him. It wasn't an intimate statement, but the way he said it made her feel many things at once: flattered, pampered by his attention, safe in a secret world of just the two of them. He might have said a hundred conspiratorial or sensual or even scandalous things in the same tone, but the words didn't matter. He was bringing her closer. He didn't talk to anyone else that way.

"I must, too, " she said, at the same volume. She pulled her eyes away first, folding up her mending. She looked at him quickly again. He still held that smile for her. She returned the smile and set off to work, knowing she would see him at lunch. More and more, the rest of her life was just a series of events that happened in between the times she saw him. More and more when she was next to him, she felt alive in a new way.


	3. Chapter 3

Anna stood next to Mr. Bates in the kitchen, sipping her tea and trying to tune out O'Brien's yammer; O'Brien often went on in her snobbish speeches about rank and rules and what everybody "gets" in their positions. O'Brien was an expert on everyone's particular perks. It bored Anna nearly to tears; she leaned closer to Mr. Bates, close enough to catch a light scent of clean wool, and said softly,

"We don't see many of their kind, in this part of Yorkshire. Middle class, would you say?"

He nodded. "Upper middle. The young man, Mr. Crawley, is quite educated. But he knows how to work,"

"I agree, it's in his bearing," said Anna, "Rather interesting people, to be heirs to a great estate,"

"It will change things," he said, "With their ideas of society it may be a good thing overall, but perhaps not for the great houses,"

"You know how a great house works, better than many of the staff here," said Anna, "And you're a good teacher. The younger ones watch you,"

He smiled modestly. "I modeled myself on the more experienced staff when I was a lad. It's natural,"

"It's natural for you to lead," said Anna, "You're always encouraging people and helping them to do better. Most people won't notice something good until it knocks them over and hands them a biscuit. And then they'll act as if they were owed the biscuit. But I see the way you always try to make things a little better, all the time, all around you,"

"How fortunate I am, that you would notice me," he murmured.

Anna blushed. She had been talking too much. But when she looked up at him he had that same warm look, the same welcome in his stance. He didn't mind her standing close to him. She sipped her tea again as an excuse to look up at him, marveling at the enticing combination of features, the ferocity crossed with boyish vulnerability, the fearsome, the soft, the familiar Celtic and the mysterious dark. She drew a deep breath through her nose, catching a hint of aftershave, wisps of smoke and tea. She realized now that she was falling under a kind of thrall and alarm bells went off in her mind. Her mother had said of love,_ "Try not to fall for him until he falls for you – if you can help it. But we're not in charge of who we love. Be proper in your actions and always mind your self-respect and virtue first, my Anna. But for the right man, brave any storm,"_

O'Brien blathered on about real gentlemen not working. Anna turned back to smile at the darling young Daisy, who soaked up everything like a sponge, and told her not to listen.

Anna wondered aloud what Mosely thought of the new heir; Thomas began smarting off and John fired shots right back at him. Anna warmed with pride, sipping her tea again and not bothering to look at Thomas. Thomas had a tendency to bully and manipulate so he had never been her favorite person - but his worst was highlighted when he was in a room with Mr. Bates, who made him look, simply by contrast, smaller in every way. Mr. Bates unwittingly brought out the desperate showoff in Thomas.

Mr. Bates took no nonsense from anyone, but he never confronted someone who didn't beg for it first. He addressed every individual on their own footing. He was direct but kind to Daisy, traded quips with Mrs. Patmore and Mrs. Hughes; he was an efficient second manager to Mr. Carson and a constant challenger to O'Brien's snobbery. He was able to know each individual on their own terms and to work with them each in a different way. Very few men – in fact very few people – had such a range of skill. It meant more than just an understanding of people and how they worked; it required a generosity of spirit to give on so many levels, and to be so patient with their limitations. And he had such patience because he liked people. He was moved by genuine good will.

It was inspiring and comforting to be near such a person.

If he hadn't been as tall or fine, if he hadn't that velvet voice, if his bearing were less accomplished, she would still be drawn to him just for that, for that one quality. But as it was she was drawn irresistibly, naturally. This was a real man.

This was the best man she'd ever met.


	4. Chapter 4

Anna took a moment to check the courtyard for Mr. Bates and found him in his green apron and sleeve covers, polishing a line of dress and riding boots; she sat on a bench near him as he worked, looking around first for anyone who might hear her. He put a pair of glossy boots on the edge of the stone wall.

"As you were saying," he said, with a welcoming smile. Increasingly, Mr. Bates spoke to her with the charm and familiarity of an old friend. She laughed a little; they had begun a conversation and been interrupted by Her Ladyship lecturing O'Brien, and off they had gone to work with their exchange unfinished.

"Perhaps we shouldn't speak of it," Anna began. A delivery was in progress, which created a flurry of sound behind them as workmen carrying crates called out to the hall boys, who scrambled to keep up. They could barely hear each other over the din and no one was looking at them.

"Outside of a trusted friend or a confidante, I never would," he sat now on the edge of the bench nearest hers.

Anna was feeling playful. "Which am I, then?"

So, it seemed, was he. His eyes scanned the courtyard, then met hers. He lifted his chin at her, slightly. "Which am I to you?"

"Both, easily," said Anna. She almost said, _And more_, but she didn't need to be that bold. Sharing such a sensitive confidence was enough. She learned in, "I've seen Mr. Carson putting food in a sack,"

He nodded. "And I saw him down the village, fairly sneaking into The Dog and Duck. He did not want to be seen going in,"

"What's afoot, do you suppose?"

"We should keep an eye out for him,"

"For him?"

"It may be that someone is manipulating him. That kind of thing can bring your guard down,"

"You're saying...we should protect him?" It was Anna's instinct to do so, but she wanted to know for certain what Mr. Bates was thinking.

"As we're able," he said, "Mr. Carson is a good man,"

"Even if William is still smarting a bit today," she smiled.

"Anyone can be prayed upon or compromised. But this is all supposition. We'd best be alert, but not look for any answers,"

"I agree. I wouldn't want to violate his privacy, but I wouldn't want to see him come to harm of any kind,"

He smiled at her for a long moment. "I'm glad to have such a friend as you,"

A little rush under Anna's breastbone made it impossible to speak for a time, but she kept looking at him. His eyes were a light hazel now in the shaded light, and so steady. There was such a solidness about the man, such strength. He was the kind of man who stood up when others' courage failed them. She saw it vividly now.

"I know Lady Mary wouldn't call me a friend," said Anna, "But she's treated me like one for years now. Not all the time of course. But we aren't simply lady and maid. There's more to it than that. Like you and His Lordship, I would imagine,'

"Yes. We are all human beings, and we need to matter to each other. Bonds form. It's not untoward,"

"Especially when you've served in a war together. Do you...do you mind me asking..."

"I don't mind you asking me anything,"

"Your injury – did you -"

"It was war time. I had a job to do,"

"So it was in the line of duty?"

"Yes,"

"But you also made a sacrifice," said Anna.

"You overestimate me,"

"I doubt that,"

"Your friendship means more than I can tell you," he said, "But don't think too much of me,"

"So I shouldn't trust you? I shouldn't rely on you to stand by me?"

Anna's breath was coming faster. He was leaned in toward her, his eyes darting back and forth into hers.

"Of course I would,"

His expression was so open, so sincere, that Anna's eyes began to sting.

"I would stand by you," he said. "Always,"

"Anna!" William's voice floated across the courtyard, "Lady Mary is ringing her bell,"

They said nothing more, but held a long gaze as she rose to go.


	5. Chapter 5

After the Grizzly Bear performance and his grand bow, Thomas made his exit from the dining hall. Anna was still smiling and so was Mr. Bates next to her; their eyes met and their smiles reflected each other, gradually subsiding. They had both forgotten, just for a moment, about O'Brien sitting slightly behind them.

"I'm done in just watching that," she said, "On top of the day I've had,"

Anna looked sideways at Mr. Bates who was carefully containing his expression, but his eyes glimmered. Anna felt a little trembling in her chest as another laugh threatened. They had both witnessed O'Brien's day and now it seemed like another cause for amusement, because she had nearly begged for the dressing-down she had received from Her Ladyship. They teetered on the edge of laughing again.

O'Brien sighed and rose with her sewing kit. "The mending never ends. You'd think they ran through the roses, the way they tear up their clothes. No one who had ever done any of her own mending would be so careless. With everything else we do for them, they could give it a thought,"

There was a thick silence; Anna and Mr. Bates both turned from the table to look back at O'Brien. If O'Brien kept on with this line of complaint Anna would surely lose control and burst out laughing. Something about O'Brien continuing on and on had become very funny, like a goat bleating and bleating. This image made it worse and Anna took a breath and pushed it down, to keep the laughter in.

"Well, I'll say good night to you both, I suppose, then," O'Brien glanced from Anna to Mr. Bates and back again pointedly, with a curl of her lip.

"And Alice and Erma, and William," said Anna. The other two maids paused in their conversation, clearly not eager to be part of the discussion; Alice reached across the table for Daisy's book.

"Well," said O'Brien, with the slightest toss of her head, "Good night,"

William stood now; he'd been miserably arranging sheet music at the piano and pulled on his waistcoat to straighten himself. Anna shot a look at Mr. Bates, who looked as if he were about to say something to the young man.

"Good night," William said tersely, and he left the dining hall.

"Good night," they said. Anna caught the compassion in Mr. Bates' eyes watching William go and thought that William, that Mr. Carson, that she herself had a friend in Mr. Bates, and were lucky to have.

Anna opened her log book again and picked up her pencil, but she didn't take her eyes from him. Suddenly she was overcome by a vision of putting her hand on his cheek and drawing him closer, tasting him. He gazed at her, biting his lower lip softly. His eyes moved over her face, to her mouth, to her eyes again. She realized she was doing the same. Was he thinking it, too? It was impossible. As always, they were surrounded by several people; even thinking such a thing was dangerous. What if other people caught the atmosphere between them? That might be enough to get them in trouble, and Anna realized with a start that she would not risk such a thing for him, even before herself. She felt protective of him. Now she imagined her arms around him.

She blinked, shaking these thoughts away and her heart made a small leap of excitement and fear. What was she doing? She was tired. Best get to bed.

She opened her mouth to speak.

"It has been a long day," said Mr. Bates, and he used that soft tone, the one that enveloped her and him in a safe and separate world, a world as sensual and soothing as a warm summer night. Now she wanted him to keep speaking to her, to talk her to sleep. She would love to drift off to sleep, hearing that voice, she would love to hear-

_Get up. _ She told herself, _now._

"Yes," her throat had closed up, for some reason. She had to cough and try again, "Yes, it has,"

He didn't stand. He looked up at her. She did not put her hand on his shoulder, she did not lean down to beg a kiss, she did not push her fingers through his hair or slide her fingers around the back of his neck, she did not climb into his lap, she did not tell him what she wanted.

"Good night,"

"Good night, Anna,"


	6. Chapter 6

"A good speech," said Mr. Bates, as they walked back to Downton from the hospital, "'Doughty champions' indeed,"

"It will probably be a good thing," said Anna, "Mrs. Crawley having been a nurse,"

"A balance of power is usually better for everyone,"

"When Lady Mary and the girls were talking about it, they thought it was done to teach old Violet a lesson," said Anna, leaning close to him and keeping her voice quiet, "But I also believe His Lordship did it just to be fair. In the same way he handled the situation with that shady character and poor Mr. Carson. His Lordship did right by Mr. Carson, but he was also more than fair, to everyone. I think he's quite good at that,"

"He was the same way as a commander in the military. A very good leader, one you trusted to be fair in judgement and without weakness in battle,"

"Those are good traits in an employer, as well,"

"You notice I made every effort to secure this position,"

"Yes," she said, "I did notice that,"

"I can tell you, there aren't many like Lord Grantham. In any class, or anywhere,"

_There aren't many like you either_, she thought, but she held her tongue.

"And I've met no one like you," he said, so quietly that only she could hear. Gwen ran up to join them, breathless with laughing.

Gwen began chatting about the event while Anna walked in silence, now stewing in confusion. Why did he say things like that, and then withdraw into mysterious self-denigration? Did he want her to hope, and then throw her hopes on the rocks? Was he just being incredibly literal the way men could be, sharing his admiration but then following it with dark hints at the faults of his character simply because he thought both things to be true?

Two remarks of his today chased each other through her thoughts. "Alone at last," he'd said at the table, which had made her mind go completely blank and set her heart racing with hope and nervousness, and then his remark that her opinion of him would change if she found out certain things about him. Anna resented the confusion and the helpless feeling, but then she looked up at him as they walked; he looked down at her fondly, his expression so sweet and kind that Anna stopped in her tacks.

He stopped, too. "What is it?"

Anna blinked at him, then shook her head. "I don't know," she said truthfully. He raised his eyebrows. She shrugged and resumed walking.

Gwen was reliving the final expression on the Dowager's face at the close of the ceremony.

"That look!' Gwen laughed again.

"A look is worth a thousand words," said Mr. Bates, catching Anna's eye. He was concerned; he'd caught her mood. His eyes were sharp on her, probing. Anna heaved a sigh, shaking her head at him as if to say, _"Don't ask me,"_

He frowned a little then nodded at her, as if to say, _"Alright,"_

She had never had such eloquent silent exchanges with anyone before. It was a bit of an ironic accompaniment to all the mystery. But Anna loved their wordless conversations, more than she'd ever loved talking to anyone else. She loved him knowing her so well and thinking so highly of her that he paid such close attention to her thoughts and moods. She loved the way they were becoming closer all the time. In fact, she loved-

Anna stumbled. He stopped instantly, his hand reaching for her arm. He managed to steady himself and hold her up at the same time. He looked inquiringly at her again.

"_Dear God_," thought Anna, her head buzzing. "_I love-I love HIM,_"


	7. Chapter 7

Gwen went past them with her head bowed, her scandalous machine in her arms, her steps a bit more laborious as she mounted the stairs under the weight of the typewriter.

Anna started up the servants' stairs after Gwen slowly, side by side with Mr. Bates.

"I thought I'd walk down the village for my half day," Anna said, "And I'll try to get Gwen to come with me, get her out of herself a bit. What about you?" It wasn't too forward; they often went down to the village together, and she hadn't asked him to be alone with her. Still, her nervous system stood at attention. Everything was different now. She loved him.

"Leeds," he said. "I won't be back for dinner. The train will be too late,"

"Oh," said Anna, waiting.

"You should take her with you. Get her mind off having her privacy ransacked like that. I'm sure she could use the distraction,"

"It had to have been so embarrassing," said Anna in a near-whisper, "But I'm proud of her. She stood up for herself, as well she should,"

"I was proud of you," he said, "'Private, but not secret - there's a difference'. Very well put,"

Anna thrilled to have him be proud of her. Her heart pounded too hard at the sound of it. She had the shaky, dizzy feeling now of being on a precipice; she knew how she felt about him. It was real, and there was nothing she could do about it. But she had to keep her head. What if he did not feel the same way at all? What if he was simply a flirt and she was being a fool, a complete fool? These thoughts kept her awake at night and muddled her thinking during the day but for now, while next to him, she pushed them down.

"We all have the need for dignity," he said, "Every human being. We would all do well to remember that,"

"Yes," said Anna. He certainly knew the need for dignity, after what he had been through even just here at Downton. He carried on well with his injury but people could be so unkind. He would never behave in that way himself, so the insults had to be even keener for it. Even someone being too solicitous or prying too much could be a humiliation. She thought,_ I must keep that in mind, and never demean him unknowingly._

"And I don't agree with the idea that we can get above ourselves," said Anna, thinking aloud the way she could with him. "They certainly don't hold with the same idea in America,"

"Also," he said, "There's the physical impossibility of it,"

Anna stopped and looked at him. He kept a straight expression but his eyes began to give him away.

"A bit easier for acrobats," said Anna.

They stood in the stairwell nearly grinning at each other. A silly jest, but she was enjoying herself. That kind of a joke was enough, between them. They did not need to impress each other. For a moment Anna basked in the comfort of his friendship. Then, right behind it, came desire. She wanted more. She wanted to be in his arms and she had best move on before she gave herself away.

"Well-" she said, hearing a tremble in her own voice and stopping.

"I must set out for His Lordship and be off,"

"To Leeds," she said.

"Yes," he began climbing the final flight of stairs ahead of her. Here it was again: the withdrawal, the mystery. Anna sighed and came up after him. He stopped in the hallway, which was empty, to give her a final smile.

"Have a good trip. We'll see you at breakfast, then," she forced the brightness, but he didn't seem to notice.

She waited for more. He looked at her and made a lightening-shadow of a gesture to reach for her. It was over in a flash, but Anna was sure of it. He had leaned forward, his arm had extended, but he had pulled it all back instantly. A flicker of regret passed over his features.

"Breakfast," and he was off. Anna stood in the hallway with her face burning. _ I did not imagine that,_ she thought.


	8. Chapter 8

Mr. Bates had been away for dinner the night before and this morning was late to breakfast; Anna was just finishing her tea when he finally came down and she had needed to move on with her work. He gave her a mild smile as she rose from the table, much milder than usual. She felt a distance, and it chilled her.

Anna began to stew, chased by dark thoughts as she went from chore to chore. He had been away for dinner, and now he was distracted. He even had looked a bit pale. Was it possible he didn't feel well? She thought to herself that there was probably little point in asking him. No point in asking him the one hundred other questions she had, either.

Was he married? Did he have a woman somewhere, or a family he was hiding? Best keep her calm. Best keep her mind clear and her guard up. _All will be revealed,_ her mother would say,_ Meantime, reveal less yourself._

Anna was in the midst of putting together Lady Mary's riding habit when she realized she had no other recourse but to ask for help from Mr. Bates. The riding britches were simply nowhere to be found among Lady Mary's things, so they must have made it into the attics with other outfitting or with His Lordship's riding clothes. Anna found Mr. Bates in His Lordship's dressing room, straightening the wardrobe.

He looked round the door in surprise at her knock. "I wonder if you would help me," she tried to keep a more formal tone, but it began to dissolve in her mouth the minute her eyes met his.

"What do you think?" he smiled, more warmly now.

Anna returned it, though she was trying to keep more control of herself. She followed him up the stairs; he was most definitely moving more slowly today, and more gingerly. His injury must be hurting him. She wanted to say something but thought it best to wait. He had his pride, like every man, and she must not tread on it.

They were alone in the attics. She put her feet firmly on the floor and swallowed. She needed to be smart now, and cautious. She couldn't be sure how he felt, not with the cryptic remarks of late, she reminded herself. She needed to slow herself with him. A man like him, no matter how brave or generous or kind, might still be a "razzle-dazzler", as she'd heard those kind of men called, the kind who broke hearts without even meaning to. Now her heart was swinging loosely on a hook, and if she made any sudden moves it could fall at his feet and he could crush it, even by accident.

The east attic windows were opened a crack to air out the space for the day; Anna stopped in the window for the view over the estate meadows.

"There's still a late patch down there," she said.

"Of what?"

"The meadowsweet,"

"Oh, yes. Some of it's still lingering on. That scent is so strong in the spring and summer but after a time you don't notice it as much,"

"It's my favorite," Anna confessed, "I used to roll in it as a child,"

He stopped pulling clothes from the trunk and beamed at her. "How old were you?"

"About twelve when I stopped. But," Anna said, "I still do sometimes," she wasn't sure why she couldn't stop herself from telling him, "When I'm wandering the meadows on the way home from church I lie down sometimes and look at clouds. And roll...a bit," She blushed now; why couldn't she draw back from him? She would have to try harder.

"I know," he said.

"What?"

"Sometimes at Sunday dinner the scent is still clinging to your hair," Anna stared at him. He added, "I'm sure no one else noticed,"

There was a very long silence.

"Well, the riding britches are just here," he said suddenly, breaking the shimmering quiet, "That should do for Lady Mary. Do you need anything else?"

Anna heaved a sigh. "No," she said, "Thank you for your help. I'll want to have these laid out and ready for her, so I'd best get to it,"

The air between them seemed thick. Anna didn't meet his eyes. Her heart was swinging too loosely, too quickly, and she needed to slow its pace. She took the stairs down.


	9. Chapter 9

Anna finished adjusting her cap and headed down the stairs with Her Ladyship's words still weaving a path through her brain. "Lady Mary's shame," she had said, humiliating her own daughter in front of a servant. Anna had wanted to say something, because it seemed that Her Ladyship was heaping salt into a critical wound.

Anna thought with gratitude of her own mother, who would have had strong words for her after the fact of a serious transgression, but in the moment of need would have stayed stalwart and thought of the right thing to do, first. Her own mother would never have made that little cry in the hallway, endangering all of them and needing to be admonished by her own daughter. And Anna's mother would have insisted on hearing Anna's side of the story, the entire account, before pronouncing such cruel words - if she ever used them at all. To hear upon the death of a man in her bed that her mother would "Never forgive her," seemed very hard to Anna.

Of course, Anna had much less to lose; everything Lady Mary did had far-reaching consequences and it was a burden on her. Anna's heart went out to Lady Mary. She found herself being even gentler and more attentive when she performed her duties this morning, and Lady Mary had responded with gratitude. It wasn't the first time Anna had felt protective, but this was a new level of sympathy. _To never be forgiven_, thought Anna, _how could anyone deserve that?_

She sat at the breakfast table heavy with these thoughts. Her friend was there, with a seat for her. She smiled at him and he smiled back at her, giving her a little rush of longing. Anna was grateful to have the position of head housemaid in a great house and to work for people who were generally so fair and kind, but now she had a new dream, a new desire. And he was sitting right next to her, dark and bright as a walk in the summer moonlight but this morning subdued, and when she looked, still pale. Mrs. Hughes sat on the other side of Mr. Bates and gave him a stern, rather chilling look. Anna would have been chilled by it. Mr. Bates simply turned away, ignoring Mrs. Hughes. He looked at Anna, his eyes going soft.

It may have been the long night she had, but now she especially wished she could touch him. Just her hand in his hand would have been a comfort. Someday, she allowed herself to think, someday wouldn't it be lovely to put her head on his shoulder, to wrap her arms around him, to rest against him? It looked as if they could both use a bit of comfort this morning. She made a show of adjusting her seat so she could lean in close enough for a whiff of his aftershave, for a closer look at his eyes. That would have to be enough.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked her.

"Urm. Yes, fine,"

"Are you alright?" He nearly whispered.

"Yes,"

Daisy held the teapot over Anna's cup and slipped, spilling a bit from the spout across the table. Anna threw a napkin over the spill.

"What's wrong with you, clumsy?" snapped O'Brien.

"Leave her alone," said Anna automatically; it was a temptation for some to pick on Daisy. _ As easy as kicking a puppy_, thought Anna. That was the sort who would have a go at a teenage girl.

"You've never spilled, Miss O'Brien?" said Mr. Bates, "How fortunate for you,"

"Not like that, I haven't,"

"We'll count on it never to happen to you, then," Mr. Bates smiled at O'Brien dangerously. Anna folded her lips together and choked back a laugh. What a appropriate little curse._ If you're so perfect, better never slip_, she thought. But it was a bit more effort than Mr. Bates normally made on O'Brien's account. He was tense, his gestures distracted. He lit yet another cigarette. Then he stamped it out, and suddenly rose from the table. He turned to Anna and gave her a little smile but it seemed to come from far off, and it died early.


	10. Chapter 10

Mrs. Hughes shot Anna a smile as she sat down to dinner, which Anna found disorienting; Mrs. Hughes usually kept her authoritative face on for meals and meetings. But tonight the tension between Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Bates had completely dissolved and now they laughed together like old friends. He was more at ease than she had seen him in days. His color was high, his posture and vigor returned. She realized she had missed this side of him.

It was an unseasonably warm evening. Even with the back door propped open they were all perspiring a bit at dinner. Anna sipped her tea after it cooled in the cup, willfully not looking at Mr. Bates' forearms. He had rolled up his sleeves and was turned away from her and chatting with Mrs Hughes. O'Brien and Thomas got up to go for an after dinner smoke; there was no one across the table to see her now. So Anna sipped, and stared.

His hands were fine but masculine with long, tapered fingers and broad palms, and he used the tips of his fingers when he touched things, unlike many men who used their hands like meat hooks. His fingers were deft and precise without being dainty. His wrists were broad and solid, his forearms long-boned like the rest of his build. Anna stared at the hair on his forearms, dark but not too thick, imagining how much he might have on his chest. She had accidentally seen the farm boys with their shirts off behind the barn or in the fields when a cool breeze came up and they thought no woman was about; she knew men came in many shapes and sizes, many hues and variations. It wasn't something she should have been thinking about. But still, she looked. If she were to stroke her hand over his arm the hair would be soft and reassuringly masculine but the underside of his arm would be bare skin. How smooth would it be, how warm, how tender? If she moved her hand under the table and brought it up "accidentally" under his arm she would be able to find out.

Anna set her cup in her saucer with a little crash. If she kept thinking like this she would bring a calamity on herself. What if she lost control completely one day? She hadn't realized how far down this road she had wandered. In fact, she had never come this far in her admiration of any man. She huffed to herself. In love or not, this wasn't like her. She needed to regain her bearings.

He had been laughing with Mrs. Hughes and turned round to Anna with that very slight swagger he had, even sitting down; his eyes were bright as they met hers, giving his smile a teasing quality. Without saying a thing he was flirting with her and Anna's bearings dissolved again as her knees and ankles turned to water. She was glad she was sitting down, to have him smile at her like that. She rallied anyway.

"We'll, it's late," said Anna, "I'll finish up with Lady Mary and say good night,"

She stood a bit unsteadily, pushing her cup and saucer away; his arm went out, by instinct, to help her. She put her hand on the table to right herself but her fingertips stopped against his.

The both froze.

Mrs. Hughes had said good night and was leaving the dining hall. Further down the table Alice was absorbed in her mending. There was no one looking at them. He dropped the arm that had stretched out to catch her, but he did not move his hand on the table. Anna, breathless, pivoted her fingertips against his as she slowly moved around him. He lifted two fingers to give hers a stroke as she pulled them away, and she slowed herself to prolong the touch.

They had brushed against each other like two languid cats, using nothing but the tips of their fingers. Anna's entire body sang with it. She left the hall without looking back at him.

She finished up and went to bed, and dreamed of his hands in her hair. He was running it between his fingers over and over, spreading it on the pillow. He caressed her ears, her throat, the back of her neck. Anna moaned happily, holding her face up, longing to be kissed. The bed disappeared from under her and she thumped, breathless, onto the floor.

"Wha?" Gwen choked, sitting up in the dark. "Anna?"

Anna lay on the floor tangled in covers and her nightgown. She sighed.

"Nightmare," she said.


	11. Chapter 11

Gwen was pinning on her hat, turning her head in the mirror. She looked back at Anna.

"_Jane Eyre_?"

"Yes," Anna smiled, rolling her eyes, speaking over her stuffy nose. "I know, I'm reading it yet again,"

"It's quite good," said Gwen, "But sad. I prefer _Pride and Prejudice_,"

Anna made a face. "I don't like Austin's dandy heroes," She sneezed into another handkerchief.

"You like them more manly, I suppose,"

"Yes, I do,"

"And mature. And," Gwen dragged out the word, "Mysteerious..."

Anna's face became hot, even without a fever.

"You don't need to talk about it," said Gwen, "And you know I would never say anything,"

"I know-"

"He's a good man," she said, "And I think you're a good match," Gwen sat on the edge of her bed, leaning encouragingly toward Anna. "Such a thing might be frowned upon still, but I believe we can have different futures, Anna,"

"So do I. But...I don't know enough..."

"You two don't have an understanding?"

"Not that kind,"

"Well, I'm sure it will happen. It's clear to me he's fond of you,"

"If that is enough," said Anna.

Gwen sat looking at her. "I think it will all come out well," she said. "If he's the right man that's most of the battle, isn't it?

"I suppose,"

"You don't want to talk about it any more,"

"I don't. But thank you,"

"I'll bring up a tray for you when I get back," Gwen stood, straightening her skirt. "You might be hungry by then. Get some sleep, Anna," Gwen gave her another smile as she went out.

"Have fun at the fair," said Anna, as the door closed.

Anna reclined for a while on her pillow with Charlotte Brontë's book lying open on her lap. She was deeply tired. This kind of love was exhausting. It was like being on a swing; when she was up she was overjoyed and it seemed to singe the edges of her mind with its intensity, and when she was down the darkness of the feeling seemed to drag her along a cold road at night. Altogether she had not rested properly in a while. Anna moved deeper into bed, pulling the covers up but still holding her book.

She closed her eyes. While her head spun and her throat was ravaged, there was some comfort in being sick just now. She wasn't able to sustain the level of emotion she'd been wrestling with for days - the doubt, the fear. Tension began to drain from her shoulders and her eyelids slipped down. A short dream took her.

She wandered high in the meadow over a ridge to find a moor spreading out before her grey and violet, cloudy and cold, with a blasting wind bending the heather. Anna turned to look behind her in the dream but now the meadow was gone and the moor was behind her, as if the landscape had rotated. She spun on her heel, back to her previous direction; she was surrounded by the bleak landscape and far away from home. She blinked into the buffeting wind, which was beginning to throw fine, stinging shards of rain and saw a distant break in the clouds. A storm was pounding in but the sun would follow close on. Anna had borne bad weather before and knew that no storm lasted forever. She lowered her head, pulled her coat tightly around herself and plunged ahead.

Anna woke coughing. She sat up, clearing her throat, and picked up her book again. It was calming because she loved the book and because her own troubles paled next to poor Jane's. Anna sank deeply into the story; Jane heard a voice calling her name and knew it was the one man she loved...

There was a knock on the hall door.

* * *

Anna climbed back into bed, dragging her tray onto her knees. She closed her eyes, inhaling the meadowsweet; even with her cold she could smell it, a bit. Where had he found it just now? How far had he gone to scout one of the last patches of meadowsweet still blooming?

The butter was still cold from the larder, the bread moist from being just sliced off the loaf and the soup was hot. His knowledge as a footman had not deserted him. He'd given her a glass of water as well as milk.

Anna stared at the flowers, but wasn't the tray or the flowers that gave her a new feeling of deep, warm quiet.

It was the look he had given her. It was clearer than any words could be. She had taken the tray from him and almost said it aloud, "Are you fond of me, then?" His reply was perfectly and eloquently stated when he had leveled his gaze at her. He felt the way she did. She knew it. If he had used words she might have harbored more doubt.

Something inside Anna released, as if a fist had unclenched and then icy fingers lifted, one by one. She was infused, flooded with warmth inside.

She wasn't afraid any more. He was the right man.

Her dream came back now, the cold blasting wind on the desolate moor. What if he had secrets, terrible ones? What if he pulled away from her again? What if he denied her?

_For the right man,_ her mother had said, _brave any storm._

And now she could.


	12. Chapter 12

Anna giggled to herself as she descended the servants' stairs; she was late for dinner, but luckily so, as Mr. Bates saw her from the landing and waited.

He smiled at her expression. "What is it?"

"Lady Sybil and those suffragettes are so brave," she whispered.

"Yes?" he whispered back, eyebrows up.

Anna leaned in, closer than usual, possibly closer than she ever had. "Lady Sybil's new frock is...rather shocking. She's been looking in magazines at pictures of women in the American West, and gotten some ideas in her head,"

"Trousers?" he bent his head closer still, coloring slightly.

"There will be such a stir," Anna giggled again.

"A stir and possibly an explosion," he said.

"I believe she can stand up to an explosion," said Anna, "Lady Sybil has everything to gain by being true to herself. And she is not afraid to be,"

His eyes traveled over her. "Are you better, then?"

"Yes. I made a quick recovery,"

"You did,"

"I was well cared for,"

"As you should be," There was so much heat in his gaze that Anna had to breathe before she spoke, to think of what she was saying. She came up empty. She swallowed. He saved her.

"How is Gwen?"

Anna cleared her throat in relief. "Disappointed, presently, and a bit discouraged. But I believe she will succeed,"

"She will if she doesn't give up,"

"As I understand it, Lady Sybil is being helpful on that front, too. It just makes me admire her more,"

"Lady Sybil's conscience runs broader than most. She's a compassionate person,"

"True. Compassion, and courage. It's quite the combination,"

"It is," he said pointedly; his eyes were a heavy warmth on her, like an embrace. "And you won't let Gwen give up either,"

"But that's always the rub, isn't it?" said Anna. "When to give up, and when to keep on,"

"There's much beyond our reach, in life. Our own persistence is one thing we are in command of,"

"It was one of my faults," said Anna suddenly. "When I was small my mother used to say I never knew when to give up," She returned his gaze now, full and strong.

The silence hung between them. She could see him breathing, his chest moving, his eyes darting into hers, his lips pressed together.

He opened his mouth, but Thomas appeared at the top of the stairs. He stared past them pointedly and walked between them, forcing them both to move out of his way.

They exchanged a long look and went down to dinner.


	13. Chapter 13

Anna walked down the hallway with her hands full and her head swimming with fragments of what he had said.

"Perhaps...he did love her back,"* At least the remark, as off-point as it was, confirmed her instinct. One look had told her a few nights ago, but now he as good as told her in words as well.

With a caveat.

_At least I'm out of the realm of "if", _thought Anna_. Now it's simply a mystery of "what". _What_ it is that he's not at liberty to speak about._

Anna thought of the mad Mrs. Rochester in the attic. It probably wasn't as bad as that. _And if it is,_ thought Anna, _Jane managed it._ _And I can. I can manage whatever comes, but I will not let this pass us by. We will not wonder for the rest of our lives how our days would be different if we had simply had the courage to love, even when it was hard or we had to wait. Nothing else is so worthy, to wait for. _

"It wouldn't be right,"* he'd also said, and now that was burning a hole in her brain, because Mr. Bates was a man with principals and heart. He wouldn't betray a confidence, he wouldn't abandon someone who was helpless, he wouldn't do the wrong thing. If there was anything wrong with their having an understanding, then that would be the obstacle.

Anna set about her afternoon duties. She was finally able to run up to her room for her uniform change. She took off her cap and apron and stopped, sitting on a chair to brush out her hair and put it up fresh; she sat brushing for longer than usual, her mind drifting.

What if he had a wife and child somewhere? But would he really be acting so, if he were married? Some men certainly did. He seemed to be quite a different man than that kind, though, the kind who would tire of his obligations and run off to flirt with other women. You never entirely knew about people, but good men tended to be honest and have a decent amount of humility; it was the vain and sneaky ones who most often used people, at least in Anna's experience.

She closed her eyes just for a moment, to imagine him doing this. It was silly of her, but it would feel astonishing: his big, warm, smooth hands on her shoulder and back, drawing the brush down and through her hair, perhaps bending to kiss the back of her neck and her cheek and behind her ear, perhaps cupping the back of her head in one hand, tilting her head back by tipping her chin with his other hand and bending down to kiss her on the mouth, stroking her throat while his lips slipped over hers, her head floating in his palm. Anna's insides fluttered thinking of it and she righted her head, swallowing. No point in getting herself into a state. Soon she would have to ready the Ladies' rooms for the dressing gong.

Gwen still hadn't shown. Anna frowned with some concern, but also felt a little surge of pride in her friend and smiled. Mr. Bates had been right, she certainly would not allow Gwen to give up. And Anna knew that if she needed to talk about her own troubles, she would be able to count on Gwen. It was not in her plans; what was between herself and Mr. Bates would stay between them, and she knew he would feel the same way. All the same, it was nice to know. Anna finished her hair and gave a short, tight sigh into the mirror. If Gwen would not be allowed to give up, then Anna could hardly give up on herself.

"Onward, then," she said to her reflection.

* * *

_*These lines are from Julian Fellowes scripts and are not my words._


	14. Chapter 14

Anna's stomach sank as she followed Mr. Bates from the dining hall; someone was scheming against him, and she had a feeling that she knew who. He could be dismissed for theft if he was blamed for something like this. Then he really would be gone. It would be disgustingly unfair; the thought of this made her sinking stomach turn sour. And he had been so injured by it, too. Anna hated the look on his face, how disheartened he had been. She had glimpsed again that side he hid so well, that lost little boy, the wounded man who stood up, and it galvanized her. They would not hurt him. Not while she was in this house.

She tried to concentrate while lacing Lady Mary's corset and fastening the dress. She laid out the gloves, which slipped off the edge of the dressing table. She caught them, then replaced them only to have them slide off again. Anna huffed, folding them.

"Anna, please," snapped Lady Mary, as she took her earrings from her jewel box.

"I'm sorry, My Lady," said Anna automatically, dipping her head. Then she felt Lady Mary's hand on her wrist. Anna looked up at her.

Lady Mary's eyes were soft with regret. "I'm sorry, Anna. Please excuse me,"

"There's no need, My Lady,"

"There is," said Lady Mary. "We can't both of us be treated like property tonight. Even if, in the strictest sense, I am. But it's nothing to do with you,"

Anna could not reply to this. She finished and waited while Lady Mary turned in the full length mirror.

"Quite the prize heifer," she said.

"I was in the village yesterday, and heard two old ladies talking," said Anna.

Lady Mary had known Anna long enough to trust that the story would lead to a pertinent point. She turned and gave Anna her attention.

"One of them had been a great beauty in her youth, it seemed. They laughed about it, being old ladies now, but the other said, 'I always wondered what it was like, to be beautiful like you. Was it really not such a great thing, after all?' And the other said, 'Oh, no. It was a great privilege. If I had the choice, I would certainly be beautiful again,'"

Lady Mary's eyes sparkled with light tears, which she blinked away.

"Thank you, Anna," she said.

* * *

Anna left the kitchen at a clip, her mind racing. _ Bald-faced and bold as brass_, she thought, _I should thank them for it._ The cozy exchange between Thomas and O'Brien had been unmistakable. O'Brien had looked like the cat who licked the cream.

Anna had known O'Brien long enough to tune out her conceited ramblings and rude snipes, at least to a point, but she also knew a danger sign. Whenever O'Brien looked that smug, that (for lack of a better term) happy - it meant someone was about to get hurt.

For one moment Anna contemplated what it might take to make a person so insidiously awful, but there was no time to spend on it. They were on the attack. They were attacking him and something had to be done.

They had planned this so that a search would incriminate him. Meanwhile, he was saddened by the event but completely unsuspecting. This was where good people could fall down, could be manipulated and taken advantage of. Anna's anger dug its way down and turned to cold steel; now she was filled with a hard, energetic resolve. She had a plan.

* * *

Anna quickly scanned the hallway behind her as she approached Mr. Bates.

"Did you find it?" she whispered.

"Yes. In a drawer," he kept his voice low as well.

Anna took a moment to fume. "Horrid creatures. What lengths to set this up. And sneaking into your room!"

"But not so happy now,"

"Right. Did you want me to take it?"

"No. I've found neutral ground. No one will be implicated,"

Anna blinked. "But-"

"I don't want to hurt anyone,"

"Alright," Anna understood that, although she would have understood retribution just as well. "You'll do that now, then?"

"It's done,"

"Good," Anna let out a breath, relieved. He was out of danger. She couldn't help smiling at him. His eyes were tender on her. He leaned just a bit forward on his cane, his teeth pulling gently on his lower lip. Anna's heart leaped. She still felt his fingertips against hers on the table and the way his touch had moved through her, deliciously electrical.

"I'm very fortunate to have a friend like you," he said.

"Friend?" said Anna, and then she opened her mouth again and they stared at each other.

"Always," he said.

Anna closed her mouth slowly. His eyes were dark in the hallway and glimmered on her.

"Well, what's next?" she asked.

His face fell somber. "Next?" he said, without taking a breath.

"Yes. I think we should request a search at dinner,"

"Oh," now he breathed. Anna realized what had given him pause. He had completely mistaken the implication. _Well, what _is_ next, after friendship?_ Anna thought, as she kept her eyes on him. He leaned toward her with a look of longing, a longing to speak of something deeper. He finally abandoned the struggle.

"Before dinner," he said, "When we all first sit down. And then we can eat in peace after it's all over,"

Anna smiled. "You'll think I'm wicked, but I can't wait to see their faces,"

"Wicked? Never,"

"No?" She knew she was pushing him, but he was on the edge of saying something and she needed him to. Or she needed to. Anna had never lied well, and though she could keep her feelings in check she could not stay with a course that led nowhere. Love was not something you left by the wayside; it was too precious and too rare, and it was standing right in front of her.

A door opened in the hallway behind them. Anna bowed her head and walked past him as he did the same. She did not reach out her hand to brush his.


	15. Chapter 15

Anna walked behind the cart, her eyes hooked in his; he seemed to be pulling her along with that somber, burning gaze. Anna could not look away. She held herself tight together as she walked, as if she might fly apart like a wooden jigsaw puzzle sliding off the edge of a table. She clutched her purse with both hands, arms tight at her sides, her numb feet clipping along the road in firm, careful measures.

She felt jumbled and scattered inside. Her brain felt one thing, her heart knew another..._was that right?_ _Does the brain feel, does the heart know?_ She could do nothing but follow him. The cart was gaining speed and he was moving slowly out of sight. The moment their gaze broke with the distance Anna slowed, as if she were released from a tether. She opened her purse as she strolled, pulled out a handkerchief, looked ahead and behind once more and then exploded.

Best do it. Her eyes would have a chance to clear before she made it to the flower show, and her nose wouldn't be swollen if she wept now.

At least he had admitted that she had a right to ask. That was something. She was a lady to him; that was something that should have lightened her heart. He always managed to say the most wonderful and horrible things at the same time, leaving her confused. Leaving her heart swinging dangerously on that slippery hook.

Her body said another thing, adding to the confusion; he had jumped into the cart with the athletic grace he displayed so casually at times and Anna's own body responded to that strength with a flush, a quickening, a deep surge of heat. In character he was everything she wanted. In physique his size, his build, his movements, his sensitivities, the texture of his skin, the thick glossiness of his hair, the rich, seductive combination of his features...he was everything she craved.

She knew what many people would tell her: that she was young and she should keep her mind on her position. Lady Mary would always be a lady of some means, enough to keep Anna, and Anna knew those odds were very good. She could be a lady's maid for life, or if she wanted she might even be a head housekeeper one day, or she could marry a farmer and settle for that life. So much to live for, people would say, for a young woman, so much ahead.

Not so long ago that was enough. It was more than. But now it was hollow. Those possibilities were still there for her, but her taste for them had fled. They were not enough anymore.

She entered the great hall slowly, the sweet scent of blown roses wafting over her. Everyone was assembled to hear the awards. He was easy to spot with his bowler hat a head above almost everyone's. She waited in a shadow in the entry way.

He turned his head, his eyes glinting over the crowd and then back toward the door. Anna ducked in a deeper shadow, watching him. He searched, then he looked forward with the crowd. After a few more moments he looked back again. He stepped aside from others gathering around him, clearing a space to his left. It was for her. She could feel that space drawing her, pulling her to him. She felt the same way when he was not there, the space beside her where he belonged an aching emptiness.

Anna pinched her cheeks, patted her hair on her temples and brushed her dress. She took a breath and walked directly to him, sliding between others into the space he kept open for her.

He seemed to feel her before he saw her, moving even further to the right so she had a place to stand. She looked up at him as the applause started; he looked back at her, moving his cane to his other arm and falling back a step to be beside her.

Comfort washed over her from that one step.

They belonged together. How could it not be so, when they were so keenly aware of each other, looked out for each other, cared for each other? He looked down at her again as they both clapped their hands and Anna held that look. It reflected hers. Whatever was in the past, whatever was in the way now, was not here. It was not real. His eyes on hers were real. His caring, his affection, no matter how buried under mysterious conscience, were real. Her love, especially now that he knew it, was real.

The loose puzzle pieces melded together in Anna. She was gathered again, strong again. _ Live for what matters_, she thought, and it was her own thought; she had never heard anyone else say it. Now it was like a prayer from her own mind, and perhaps from love itself.

_Love is what matters, and I live for that._


	16. Chapter 16

The door to Mr. Carson's office swung open, making Anna pause in the hall.

Mr. Carson went one way and Mr. Bates another, toward her.

"What is it?" she said, her eyes searching his face.

He glanced both ways, speaking under the din of Mrs. Patmore's diatribe and banging pots echoing from the kitchen.

"I've been accused of stealing wine,"

"What?" Anna couldn't keep the little laugh from her voice. Mr. Bates' glass of water at table was such a common sight that no one even offered him wine on New Year's. But her laughter fell quickly. "Is it-"

"Thomas," he said.

"Of course," Anna gave a rough sigh, hands on her hips. "Well-it's quite obvious then, isn't it?"

"Not so, if you happen to be Mr. Carson. He doesn't know what I know,"

"You didn't tell him?"

His lips tightened in a small, ironic smile.

"Well, you must," said Anna, "Mr. Carson must know the truth,"

"I did let slip that I knew some wine was missing. He asked me how I knew that,"

"And you wouldn't tell him,"

His eyes darted down the hall again. "Mr. Carson will have to tell His Lordship. I would be forced to do the same, in his position,"

That was true. And even though Mr. Bates and His Lordship shared something like a friendship, it would not have been proper for Mr. Bates to go directly to him with this. It had to be managed by Mr. Carson. So Mr. Carson must be given all the facts, then. Anna opened her mouth to remind Mr. Bates of this.

Mrs. Hughes turned a corner and headed toward them. "Anna, we'll have a delivery tomorrow of tapers and lamp oil. Would you see to the upstairs stock cupboards for the bedrooms today? The lamps and candlesticks are all due to be cleaned,"

"Right away, Mrs. Hughes," Mr. Bates was already moving on; Anna reached, managing to just catch his sleeve with her fingers. He paused mid-step, turning back toward her. He did not pull his hand away from hers. He waited until she had released him. They exchanged a long look before he turned away.

Anna couldn't help being cheered. It was the first time she had deliberately reached for him, and he had not pulled away from her or given her any sign that he would. She took hope from that. Perhaps they could breach this one boundary, and soon. She took a deep breath at the thought of holding his hand.

* * *

Anna followed Mr. Bates in from the courtyard, chewing on her lower lip. She followed him up the servant's stairs and stopped in the hallway.

"Mr. Bates,"

He turned to her.

"Isn't the truth important?"

"Of course it is, Anna,"

"Well, I know the truth. And I know you,"

His eyes grew sad, lingering on her face. "Do you?"

"Yes. And since we are friends you mustn't expect me to allow an injustice. I stand up for my friends, as I'm sure you do,"

"And that is right and proper, if they deserve your courage,"

"Of course they do, or they wouldn't be my friends to begin with. I've only a few, but-"

"'_Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried_...*'" he began.

Anna thought. "Oh!" she said. "_Hamlet,_ isn't it?"

He smiled. "Yes. _'Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel_,*'"

Anna swayed toward him without meaning to. "Though hoops of steel wouldn't be necessary,"

"But it is important," he said, "To be sure of people. To be sure others truly know you. Friendship should not be taken lightly. That is why Pelonius begins with that qualification, that those friends are tried...and true,'"

"I don't take friendship at all lightly,"

"I know that. For you, the important thing is to be sure that people are worthy of your friendship,"

Anna was struck silent. He smiled at her.

"Goodnight," he said.

* * *

The next evening Anna finished dressing Lady Edith and was done early, since Lady Sybil would miss dinner tonight. She lingered in the hall, waiting for His Lordship to emerge and head down; once he had disappeared she went to His Lordship's dressing room and knocked.

"Mr. Bates?"

He opened the door, his features warming at the sight of her. It was a subtle thing but always gave her a little rush of gladness, even if only for an instant.

"Anna,"

"Did His Lordship say anything about the wine?"

"No. He made no mention of it,"

"Why won't you explain to Mr. Carson?"

"It's too late for that now,"

"But he must have all the information, if he's to make the decision fairly. You would insist on the same if it was anyone else on the line,"

"I have no proof, Anna," Something in his posture had collapsed; his shoulders sagged slightly. He blinked at her slowly with a smile. "It's often the way of things," he said.

Anna startled at this. "Then things must not be allowed to go that way," she said, "We must change them,"

He gave a small sigh. "Sometimes," he said, "The things we can't change follow us. And we must continue to answer for them, even after the fact,"

"What? What do you-"

He looked up, past her; Anna heard footsteps behind and moved on. She gave a sigh of frustration that echoed in the stairwell. Why was he so eager to put himself in the stocks? It was a very odd twist. He was not a man who bore foolishness or falsehood, even by omission, at any other time. He was not someone who believed the worst of someone else too quickly. Why did he expect things to go badly for himself? Why did he very nearly draw the worst upon himself? It made no sense.

* * *

Anna entered the dining hall to a sudden silence; junior staff looked up at her, their faces coloring, stopping in mid-sentences; Thomas and O'Brien did the same, though of course with no sign of any shame. Thomas looked away but O'Brien smiled that dangerous, rat-eyed smile, her eyes shining as if the rat had caught sight of its dinner. Anna marched to the table and took her seat without looking away from O'Brien once, bringing her own full-on challenge. O'Brien's look faltered and she glanced away, but Anna kept staring at her.

"What is it, Miss O'Brien?"

"I don't know what you mean,"

"Someone going to the block today?" said Anna, "That would be like Christmas for you. Going to dip your handkerchief?"

O'Brien bristled. "Well, if you're going to-"

"Be careful," said Anna, staring her down. "You may not be as smart as you think you are. I know you're not as brave as you think you are,"

Miss O'Brien's shoulders hunched as she rocked very slightly from side to side in her chair, like a snake preparing to strike. Anna's body was tensed to the core, ready for any movement. Decorum had all but left both of them. Anna began to hope with all her heart that O'Brien would try something, anything. And right now would suit Anna just fine.

Mrs. Hughes entered the dining hall and stopped to absorb the tingling quiet, her eyes leaping around the table. She was followed by Mr. Carson. They all stood, Anna never taking her eyes from O'Brien.

Daisy had begun to serve when Mr. Bates came to dinner late. Anna smiled at him and he returned it, but he moved like someone who had been defeated. He glanced across the table with a kind of sadness as O'Brien and Thomas grinned at each other.

Now would be a perfect time to reach under the table and take his hand in hers. It was such a harmless, small thing but could shore up both of them, make them both stronger by leaning on each other. This equation made so much sense to Anna that she stared at her plate without thinking to eat, contemplating a simple, inches-away reach, a touch, a hold. There could be no possible harm in it and even if it startled him he would not reject her, she was sure of it now. At the very least they could nourish and protect each other at times like this, as friends. Anna took a breath and looked sideways at him, at his hands, but he was up after only a few bites and gone without a smile goodbye.

When he had left the hall Anna examined Thomas nearly lounging next to O'Brien, who would not make eye contact with Anna. She looked back and forth at each of them.

Mrs. Hughes cleared her throat. "Anna, you haven't touched your dinner," she said.

"No," said Anna, absently, her eyes still glued to O'Brien, "I haven't much of an appetite this evening. Bit of a sour stomach,"

"Perhaps you should go to bed and be sick," said O'Brien.

"I wasn't talking to you," shot Anna.

"Dinner is over," said Mrs. Hughes.

* * *

"Anna, a word, please,"

Anna stepped into Mrs. Hughes' sitting room.

"In a quarter hour there's to be a meeting in Mr. Carson's office. I'm asking you to attend,"

"Is this about Mr. Bates?"

"It is,"

"I have knowledge of Mr. Bates' innocence," said Anna.

"That may be necessary," said Mrs. Hughes. "I am counting on you, Anna, to witness and only to contribute when Mr. Carson requests it. He will get to the bottom of this,"

"Yes, Mrs. Hughes,"

"You're a good girl, Anna. I've always been able to count on you,"

Anna tried not to be too surprised, to have Mrs. Hughes speaking to her like this; their relationship was usually quite formal but this felt very natural and Anna relaxed.

"He's a good man," said Anna.

Mrs. Hughes took Anna lightly by the wrist and smiled. "I know," she said. "A very good man,"

* * *

Anna took the stairs faster than she ever had. She closed the door of her room behind her, leaning against it, waiting for her heart to slow.

Gwen dropped her book, startled. "Anna! What is it?"

Anna looked at her friend tucked into her bed, at the candles in the quiet room. It had always been a safe space here, a place where she could calm herself after a long day, a place where she would soon be in a deep sleep. She stayed against the door and couldn't move.

_So close,_ she thought._ Why?_

"Anna?"

"I'm sorry," Anna said. She began to undress, moving through her bed time routine without purpose.

It was impossible that she could taste him now. But it had been so close, she knew the taste of him. She knew the texture of that tender cupid's bow of his upper lip, always freshly-shaven; the first tang of aftershave and then the sweetness of flesh, the satiny smooth slide of his lower lip. She knew what it was to mix her breath with his, to teeter on her toes leaning against him, to feel his heart pounding under her palms. She had been ready for years now to dissolve under him, to give herself and take what she wanted: that taste, that flavor of him.

But she had run away.

Anna slipped into her nightgown and folded her towel. She sat on the edge of her bed staring at the floor.

He had finally held her hand, at least. He had reached for her hand this time. And the kiss was next, it was right, it was the way it should have been, except for one thing.

It would have been a kiss goodbye.

* * *

*by William Shakespeare


	17. Chapter 17

Anna looked at the clock; she could take a few minutes for herself in the back garden of the London estate, and she would like to have that little respite. As she strolled through the iron gate, down the walkway and past the planted urns she saw a tendril of drifting smoke and then the back of Mr. Bates' head; he was seated on a marble bench. The ragged mix of feelings hit her again, but most important was the first feeling – the pure joy of seeing him. She couldn't help smiling and quickening her pace.

He turned, hearing her. Anna regretted not sneaking up. She loved the back of his neck like she loved the rest of him, and she rarely had a chance to stand long enough in back of him to just take in the clean male scent and the particular scent of him, to imagine wrapping her arms around him from behind and laying her cheek on his. Some mornings at breakfast she took extra time gathering her skirt behind his chair so that she could steal a whiff.

His eyes danced on her. "You're still in one piece. I don't know how you do it,"

Anna laughed. He slid down the bench and she sat beside him, leaving half a seat of space between them.

"I'm a fright, but we're ready,"

"You are not a fright," He was drinking her in, his eyes all over her. Anna sat up straighter, lifting her chin, her chest expanding, her body answering him. She swayed very slightly on the bench and felt him swaying with her, as if they were tied together. Anna took a long, long breath in and sighed. Finally he spoke again. "You look..." and he stopped.

Anna cast her eyes down at her shoes, and decided to rescue them both.

"The gowns are laid out. In just a minute I'll head up with the gong, and then the night really begins,"

"His Lordship says it's a very successful season for Lady Sybil. I'm happy for her,"

"So am I. And she's quite enjoying it, although..."

"It may not be enough, in the long haul,"

"Lady Sybil is different. I can't imagine her going with tradition, not the way she talks,"

"Nor the way she thinks,"

"It's good to see you," blurted Anna, "Since we've been in London-"

"I'm fortunate to get a glimpse of you," he said. "I admire the way you've had it all organized. They notice, you know,"

"They?"

"The family. You're indispensable. I've heard it said more than once on this trip alone,"

"No one is indispensable," said Anna.

He turned to her, pinning her with that look she'd seen before - that clear, unmistakable message.

"You are," he said.

Anna basked in that look. She met his eyes without moving. She could hear her own breath rushing through her nose, felt her heart swelling. She reached between them and put her hand on the cool marble; he did the same, so their fingertips just touched. Anna slid her hand on top of his. He turned his hand beneath hers slowly, then enveloped her hand in his completely before releasing, his fingertips lingering in her palm. Anna closed her eyes at that warmth, that embrace, the tantalizing stroke. Now that she had felt the incredible gentleness of them she would be forced to imagine his fingertips elsewhere. She regained herself and opened her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Tell me what for,"

"All of it. I've no right to your good opinion, and certainly no more than that,"

"I should think that's up to me, Mr. Bates,"

"I'm-I only meant-"

"The great secret, I know," said Anna, "Well, I can tell you that in spite of the recent revelation you are needed by the house, as well. They've made no move to change things because His Lordship doesn't want to. Mr. Carson doesn't want to,"

"The timing hasn't been right," he said, "I'm anticipating my dismissal shortly after we return to Downton, when they've had a chance to settle back in. Then His Lordship will have had time-"

"I don't think so," Anna interrupted, "You are needed. By them, and by me,"

He took a breath to reply but she cut him off.

"That's not a secret and we needn't pretend it is," said Anna, "I've told you how I feel, and I stand by it,"

"Anna-"

She stood, her voice trembling. "Some people go their entire lives without loving someone the way I love you," she said. "What could ever matter more than that?"

She blinked her eyes clear as she strode back up the walkway to the sound of the dressing gong. The ball would begin in just two hours, and she would lose herself in the preparations. Another welcome respite.

* * *

Anna was glad to be back home. She did call Downton "home" in her mind, although Mrs. Hughes might correct her on that score.

Mr. Bates had been anxious since the return, in keeping with his assumption that he would soon be dismissed. Anna did not sense it. Mr. Carson, for all his professional dignity, was not good at hiding his feelings. Anna felt his annoyance at Thomas daily and his disdain of O'Brien's attitude often. But Mr. Carson still trusted and relied on Mr. Bates to take up the slack in nearly every situation and Mr. Bates never let him down; that was worth a great deal.

It was less about how others felt, and more how he felt about himself. Anna knew it. He had made mistakes, he had been through horrors, but he could not let them go because something was still haunting him. That something irritated Anna, like a subtle mechanical noise that wouldn't stop. Some part of his past was still grinding on him. She wanted to find the source of it and rip out the connection, shut the bloody thing off.

After leading Mrs. Patmore from the library back to the kitchen and putting her on a stool with a cup of tea to calm, Anna spotted Mr. Bates in the hall.

"So, Mrs. Patmore will be getting the surgery?" he said.

"Yes," said Anna, "I'll take her to London and stay the week until she's ready to come back," she searched his eyes. "Still no word of any changes today?" she was almost teasing him, "I told you,"

"Miss O'Brien has received a letter."

"From whom? Beelzebub?"

"A servant in the house of a colonel I served with,"

"Yes?"

"With clear evidence of the facts I relayed to you all, of my crime and the time I served for it,"

_Throwing Miss O'Brien off the roof wouldn't exactly be a crime_, Anna thought,_ pity I'd never go through with it._ For just a moment she enjoyed the image, though. Finally she asked him.

"Theft?"

"Yes,"

"Of what, exactly?"

"The regimental silver,"

Anna stared at him, open-mouthed. She gave a nearly silent laugh. The image of him sneaking about was ludicrous; she could not picture it. It was impossible.

"It won't be long now before we must say goodbye," he said. Something in his stance had relaxed; he almost seemed relieved.

"You want to, don't you? You want to leave," her voice was more strident than she intended.

"Of course not," he said, his eyes flaring as he moved a step closer. His fair skin began to flush.

"No?" she moved in as well, her pulse quickening. _This is more like it_, she thought. But she looked around the busy hallway; this was not the place to clear the air. Later. He thought the same thing, she could tell; they both took a step back.

"No, but the facts are the facts. Mr. Carson has been given the letter and he must show it to His Lordship. I must answer for that and for hiding my disgrace,"

"You stole regimental silver,"

"Yes,"

Anna stared at him for a long moment before saying, _"I'm sorry. I don't believe it..."*_

* * *

_*These words were written by Julian Fellowes. They are not mine._


	18. Chapter 18

It seemed she had been on the train a lot lately, but Anna was happy for the time to think. Mrs. Patmore had worn herself out with fretting and was now snoring gently in the seat next to Anna, the tiny silk flowers on her hat jumping with the motions of the train, her chin bouncing on her chest.

Anna looked out at the countryside rushing by. She loved the early sunlight sparkling on the streams and bogs, loved the mists drifting over the fields. But no matter where her mind went, no matter what was happening, good or bad, there he was in her thoughts, in her heart, in her bones. Now that she had a quiet moment she gave herself over to the feeling. She let her insides melt with longing, let herself imagine holding him, one arm wrapped around his waist inside his wool coat, one hand to his smooth cheek, whispering to him. She adored him as a man but a part of her felt as protective as a mother and she wanted to tell him, "It will be alright. All will be well,"

Then she gave a brisk sigh and sat up taller. It was time to think.

Clearly, he had not told the whole story. Mr. Carson, Mrs. Hughes, even His Lordship knew that. So that is what Anna would need: the whole story.

She opened her purse and pulled out her personal log book, leafing to the page with the list of addresses. She'd had time to make inquiries and find the army barracks in London. She had confirmed that they held records of his service, and that she would be able to obtain that information.

And from there, what?

Mr. Bates had spoken of his mother on occasion, who lived in London. Anna quailed a bit at the thought of a visit to her because it would be an invasion of his privacy. She looked at the name in her log book. She would be able to find her, and from the way Mr. Bates spoke of her she would no doubt at least be cordial. But would she be inclined to share information about her son? Another part of her longed to meet his mother. What a woman she must be, to have raised such a man.

Mrs. Patmore stirred. "What-what-"

Anna took her hand. ""Mrs. Patmore, we're on the train to London,"

After a quick splutter Mrs. Patmore said, "Well, of course we are," she smiled now. She squeezed Anna's hand back. "I'm glad it's you come with me, Anna. His Lordship was kind to make it so,"

"There are worse employers, I'm sure, though I'm fortunate never to have the experience of them,"

"You are fortunate, my girl,"

"Now, Mrs. Patmore," said Anna sternly, "You are not to mock the food at the hospital. It would be unkind,"

"I'd never!" she said, in pretend shock. "I will only offer the occasional...constructive...suggestion,"

Anna laughed.

* * *

Anna walked numbly down the street away from the army barracks, her umbrella loose in her hands.

His wife. Present tense.

"_I have been married_,*" he'd said. "_I have been," is not the same as "I am_," thought Anna. But then, what did the army know about the current state of the marriage?

If she assumed the worst, he was still married. And that would explain many things. It would explain his demeanor almost entirely, and explain why he told her he was not free. Why hadn't she seen it in the way he hesitated with her, the way he withdrew and avoided talking about his past? It was so simple, so clear: he acted like a guilty husband.

_But,_ Anna thought,_ but then why is his wife not with him? He is not someone who breaks promises or who deceives (well..."I have been" is quite different from "I am,")._ But the rest of it didn't feel right. And what woman would not want to be with such a husband? He was beautiful, he was kind, he as strong, he was smart and knew his business and knew people. He seemed to Anna to be the sort of man who would have no trouble keeping a woman, unless there was some other factor. What could make a woman leave such a man? Or had he sent her away? If the circumstances were dire enough, why had there been no divorce? Her imagination threw a swarms questions at her. Had he ever been violent or unfaithful? Had she?

Anna shook her head. That was enough on that score. The important thing now was to clear his name, if any information she could find would make that possible. It was the one way she could love him and look after him now.

The officer had said it was "An odd business*". She had to get to the bottom of that. Something here was unjust, it was wrong. Anna wasn't sure why or how but she felt it as a creeping sensation, an inching chill like a slow-moving shadow over her skin. Some important piece was missing.

Anna looked at the slip of paper with Mrs. Bates' address. She must write a letter, and post it tonight.

* * *

Anna sat digesting the news as her tea grew cold in her cup. She looked into Mrs. Bates' kind eyes again.

He had confessed to protect his wife. His wife had been the real thief. That was the information she needed. His Lordship would be very happy to know it. Anna readied herself to thank Mrs. Bates and make her goodbyes, finishing her tea and folding her napkin. Mrs. Bates had other ideas.

"You've known my John since he's been at Downton,"

"Yes," Anna set her cup and saucer on the table.

"Years now,"

"I have,"

"You're fond of him,"

Anna blushed and stammered.

"Forgive me, my dear. When you are my age you'll find yourself more direct. But you do know him, I can tell,"

Anna could only nod.

"You know he's a good man, and you are standing up for him. You're protecting him,"

Anna opened her mouth, then closed it.

"He's worthy of it,"

Anna still couldn't reply.

"You're a girl of fine character. He's lucky to know you, and he knows that. And this is not all good news for you. But he's worth your efforts. Even if his mother is saying so," Mrs. Bates' eyes sparkled and Anna saw him in them, the same barely-contained humor and warmth, the same mystery. It was reassuring. The mystery in him she had always attributed to his masculine nature but here it was, that half-hidden deep well of feeling and that very slight hint of exotic darkness in his mother's eyes. Then Mrs. Bates smiled and it was the same smile, too. Anna looked directly at Mrs. Bates and swallowed, clearing her throat.

"I know he's worth it," Anna said.

* * *

*Words of Julian Fellowes. Not my words.


	19. Chapter 19

_Note: I get just a tad bendy with this chapter. I don't do A/U stuff, although I admire it ("Of Hope and Glory" is a great series, for one) but in this chapter I take an A/U right turn around the traffic cone of filming logistics. I understand why they shot the fight scene in the kitchen without John jumping into the action...but personally I wanted to see him protecting Anna. I think that is what John Bates would really do. So, a touch of A/U in this one..._

* * *

Anna seated herself next to Mr. Bates without looking at him; everyone in the dining hall was focused on Miss O'Brien, who seemed to have taken the loss of the baby very hard. It was clear that she was shaken to her core. Anna's heart opened and she thought,_ Of course, every living creature has some sympathies, even if they only lie in limited quarters._ Anna warmed toward O'Brien just a little. She was not glad to see the woman so pale and hallowed, but she was glad to know that her heart did pump human blood. After all part of her heart must still be alive, or how could she walk and talk?

Thomas, however, was being dreadful enough for the both of them, and then some. Anna knew he was showing off but he finally had to take it too far and insult William's late mother. Anna could sense the tensions in the room coming to a head but she was not ready for the outburst. When William dove at Thomas, her reflexes made her jump up from the table.

Anna stumbled back, tripping on her chair. Among the scraping of chairs and the crashing of dishes she heard Mr. Bates' cane rattle on the floor as she was seized around the waist and pulled away - his arm had circled her, dragged her back past the china cabinet and for a moment lifted her off her feet. He now stood between her and the table, his back to the fight and his other hand braced on the wall to keep them both from smashing onto it. Anna had grabbed on to his shoulder; for one ludicrous moment they were nearly dancing. She would have had to duck under his arm to see what was happening but this was not her first thought.

He released her slowly, his big, warm hand lingering around her waist, his thumb giving a last stroke as if to tease her on purpose. Anna let go of his shoulder, unable to resist moving her hand down his arm to feel the hard strength in it. They were both breathless. He was standing over her with his hand on the wall, surrounding her; he stepped back.

"Saw that coming," he said. "Are you alright?"

Anna looked up at him.

"No," she said, and she knew he took her meaning. He flushed and turned to pick up his cane.

This exchange was over in seconds. No one had seen them; the rest of the room had been watching the fight. Anna did steal a glance at Mrs. Hughes, who was watching Branson finally releasing William and Thomas jerking away from Mr. Carson. Anna was proud of William. It had been exactly the right thing to do, decorum or no. As the men in the room straightened their waistcoats and Mr. Carson bristled, Mr. Bates surveyed the scene. Mrs. Patmore, Gwen and Daisy were frozen, mouths open. O'Brien had already escaped into the hallway.

"It's over," Mr. Bates said, to the room. "Why don't we allow everyone to collect themselves and return for dinner in five minutes?" He glanced around at the rest of the staff when he said this and everyone began shuffling out of the dining hall with Mrs. Hughes, Mr. Carson, and William staying behind. Mr. Bates motioned to Anna and she went ahead of him into the hallway.

"Anna," he said, and she stopped, turning to him.

"How was London?"

Anna sighed, looking up at him. "You've spoken to His Lordship?"

His half-smile was tight. "Briefly,"

"Well, then you probably know-"

"I know you must have seen my mother,"

"Yes,"

"I know what you were trying to do,"

"I was trying to find out the truth. And then to tell it," said Anna.

He rolled his eyes to the ceiling, then down at her. "But-"

"Anna," Mrs. Hughes had emerged from the dining hall and called down to her, "We may need some extra help from you before dinner. Lady Mary is still with Her Ladyship, and Miss O'Brien-"

"Of course, Mrs. Hughes, right away," Anna shot him a look that she knew was probably defiant; he was giving her a dark gaze. Anna's heart sank a bit. She may have tread upon something she shouldn't have. But she did not, and would not, regret it.

* * *

Anna walked as quickly as she could over the grass in her work shoes; it was a small difference from floors but she was not moving as she was used to. Also it was hot in the sun; she tried to skirt the shade whenever she could to avoid greeting guests as a sweaty mess. The party had been very well organized and the food beautifully timed, which helped. Anna enjoyed the music, too. It gave her more verve somehow and kept her cheerier. There was nothing quite like working to music and every time she was able to Anna found herself wishing it was a routine accompaniment. That would be a better world.

She carried yet another tray past Mr. Bates, who followed her with his eyes. Their short chat had revealed very little, as usual. But it had been nice to hear that Mrs. Bates had liked her. Thinking of it now, she blushed quite deeply. She looked at him as she made another pass across the lawn and he nearly seemed to be reading her mind. Then she thought of another part of the conversation.

"Your wife," she'd said, and he had flinched at the words. But there was more in that flinch than guilt. Several stories seemed to march across his features like an invisible army. Beyond the marriage, his confession to a crime he didn't commit and his time served, there was yet more she did not know about. He had said that there was more truth to be told, but in that moment his face announced regrets and sorrows and rages, embarrassments and fear and ultimately, a trap. He was imprisoned by more than memories and more than legal obligation. Anna had seen it. Something else was gnawing on him.

"A nasty piece of work,*" his mother had said, of his wife. Anna shivered. She knew what nasty people were capable of.

But she also knew him. She knew there was no other man for her.

And most of all, Anna knew herself.

* * *

*Words of Julian Fellowes. Not my words.


	20. Chapter 20

_Dear Anna;_

_The funeral service was quite nice; the priest knew my mother and liked her very well, and several people made the time to come. _

_I will be a few more days here. There are arrangements to be made with my mother's estate which I did not anticipate, so I will be longer than I thought. Thank you for passing that along and for making my apologies. The lawyer wants to make sure all is signed and completed as soon as possible, and there are appointments needed to do so. I'm still not sure why at this point.  
_

_There are so many things I would tell you if I could. When I'm away I miss you. I miss everything about you. Nothing makes me happier than the sight of you, except to talk to you and be next to you. This is not a proper way to write to you in a letter, but you and I are honest with each other. __Please know that you are precious to me._  


_I look forward to being back at Downton soon and above all, to seeing you. _

_Yours always, _

_John Bates_

Anna read the last paragraph again, then again. A moth fluttered in the light of the candle, shedding tiny bits of itself in its powdery panic. Anna shooed it away then laid the letter on the quilt, watching the moth flutter to the window. So fragile. Such a short little life. Did people look like that to the mountains, to the stars, just little flickering lives that burned out in an instant? Anna had only seen pictures of the Front but she had nightmares sometimes all the same. Bombs and poison gas and bullets flying. Fear was never far away and the young men talked on and on of bravery, and what it meant. Then they went off to fight, standing tall, with that fear in their eyes.

Ethel's snore was rougher and more resonant than Gwen's had been. Ethel had arrived just hours before bed time and would start training tomorrow. It said a lot about the girl already; people who wanted to make a good impression tended to show up an entire day early and then start early. Anna would not judge her for it; she had a younger sister who Ethel reminded her of, a girl who had to have the first piece of cake, who could never be special or praised enough. But Anna also knew she might be mistaken. People could surprise you at any time. All the same, if Ethel had arrived a whole day early it would have made a better impression on everyone. Anna had some knowledge of what she would be dealing with in the morning, with the impending concert and guests and training a new maid. But there were much worse things in the world.

Anna sighed, reading that last paragraph just one more time for the night. She had a surge of gratitude. He had not written from some horrible hole in the mud with shots fired at him day and night; he had already done that and was paying a lifetime price for the privilege. Compared to all those men risking their lives on the Continent now, he was relatively safe. She folded the letter, slipped it back under her pillow and blew out the candle. She said a little silent prayer, as was her custom, and saw him and heard him saying those words to her, "Nothing makes me happier than a sight of you, except to talk to you and be next to you,". She said an extra prayer for him, which gave her a warm, peaceful feeling. She drifted off.


	21. Chapter 21

_After the first kiss and in the first embrace..._

* * *

He engulfed her, rocked her. Anna squeezed him in even closer. She needed to feel his heart beating against hers; there it was, faintly pounding on her breastbone. Anna inhaled him, the faded scents of aftershave and soap and under that, the scent of him, of the man. She wrapped her arms around his back and sighed into his neck as his skin warmed against hers. She closed her eyes and drank him. Years of being next to him without the privilege of touch had made her porous with yearning and now she soaked him up, his scent, his size and the possessive way his hands moved over her back. After a few moments she drew back.

"Mr.-" she stopped, laughed a little, then continued, "Kiss me again,"

He was smiling, cupping her cheek once more. "I will," he said, "But first I want you to say my name,"

Anna's breath rushed, misting little clouds in the cold night air. "Kiss me," she insisted.

"Say my name, Anna,"

"John,"

"Yes?"

"John, kiss me!" He pulled her in. Anna slid her arms around his neck, standing as high as she could on her toes; he bent lower for her. She lost all but him. She became as unselfconscious as a hungry child, her hands on his face, caressing every feature she'd been memorizing for so long. She traced his brows, his nose, his cheeks, his mouth, his temples, following with kisses all over his face. She was ravenous to touch every bit of him, to memorize him, consume him. Her fingertips dipped into the curves of his ears, slid around the back of his neck and into his hair, at last running that heavy silkiness between her fingers. She continued praising him with her hands, down over the luxurious mass of his shoulders, down his back, then up over his chest. She could lay her head on that great chest forever and dream there, find exquisite release there, take refuge there. She kissed him again, opening her mouth more; he slid the very tip of his tongue smoothly and slowly along her lower lip. Anna's body opened as her heart had, with a gasp of astonishment and then a melting sensation all over. She wanted to climb him, pull him down, crawl over him.

Their kisses were more open, hungrier, and finding a rhythm. Anna heard a whine trilling from her own throat. He took her face in his hands and slowed her, holding his mouth on hers for longer time, closing his mouth, gradually calming them both. Anna was shaking. He wrapped her in his arms again and brought her cheek to his as they breathed against each other. Anna began to notice the cold.

He drew back to look at her.

"I love you, Anna," he said.

She smiled at him, still breathless. "Finally," she said.

"Always," he said.

* * *

Anna paused in the hallway before entering the dining hall for breakfast the next morning. He had come down early. He was already finishing his first cup of tea and had of course saved her seat - not that anyone would bother to try to sit between them at this point - but Anna's cheeks were burning; she had to stop, and turned around. She almost crashed into Mrs. Hughes.

"Anna?"

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hughes, I've forgotten something,"

Mrs Hughes stared at Anna's high color for a moment, and then came to an unspoken conclusion.

"Well," she whispered, "That happens to busy girls. But do hurry,"

"I will," said Anna, grateful for the excuse she would never have to make. She ran up the stairs, passing Ethel on the way. Anna stood at the top of the stairs for just a few moments, gathering her thoughts. When she returned to the table with her self-composure regained Ethel was sitting next to Mr. Bates and arguing her right to be there.

"You can talk to her anywhere at the table, it's not that far away," Ethel was trying to flirt, "Why does it matter?"

"If it doesn't matter, then I would appreciate your graciousness," said Mr. Bates, his eyes hardening.

"What does that mean?" Ethel huffed.

"It's means we have ways of doing things here and you'd best pay attention," said O'Brien. "Those two are thick as thieves, anyhow. When we tell you to move, you move," Anna was only surprised for a moment. Beyond her fondness for manipulation Miss O'Brien loved one other thing; she loved order.

Ethel looked at Mr. Bates who gave her that firm smile, the smile that commanded.

"Well, you lot are stuck in your ways," Ethel groused, crossing the room. She took a seat next to William. "I like them younger, anyway,"

Anna took the seat next to Mr. Bates.

Ethel looked around the table as they all stared at her in silence.

"What?" she nearly shouted.

Anna bit down on a laugh. She glanced sideways at him, and only she could see the laughter building in his eyes. It helped. Anna was grateful for Ethel's antics. With the attention on Ethyl it was easier to pretend everything was the same this morning, when just last night her whole world had changed.

* * *

Anna finished the bedrooms with Ethel, who now claimed she was tired and needed a minute outdoors. Anna was happy to let her go for the moment but also happy that her supervisor just happened to be Mrs. Hughes, who would never allow one maid to increase another's work for laziness. Anna started down the quiet hallway and saw him coming toward her. She knew her smile was wide open, but there was no one to see them.

He was somber. Anna frowned.

"What is it?"

"Last night," he said. He paused, his eyes probing hers, treading the edge of an apology, "I have no regrets...but as I'm not yet divorced..."

The quote came to Anna instantly. He used quotes with her enough, time for her to use one on him. She looked hard at him.

"_'_Then have my lips the sin that they have took*?'"

His mouth opened. His color rose quickly as his eyes darkened. So this was what desire looked like on him; it was beautiful. He was beautiful. Anna's pulse started roaring in her ears.

His look began with understanding and slid into a pleading gaze, a _don't toy with me, it's too cruel_, gaze.

Anna folded her arms, to show him she was waiting.

"_'_O trespass sweetly urged,*'" he said, low and soft.

Anna nodded. She hushed her voice and said slowly, "Give me my sin again_,_*" then she spun on her heel and went back down the hallway.

* * *

John looked back across the table at Ethel in grave annoyance, but Anna smiled. She slipped her fingers into his palm and tilted her head toward the back door.

He went first, shrugging on his coat as he left the dining hall. Ethel shot Anna an insidious glance. Anna smiled calmly at her.

Anna's mother had always had strength and composure to match anyone's. Anna held a distant memory of her father saying, "That woman could face down the Mongol hordes without a single hitch,". Anna was very proud of this and emulated her mother, and as the eldest daughter knew it was upon her to teach her younger sisters-and brothers-the strength that came from a conscience, from knowing oneself, and from the courage of conviction. Anna had fears and doubts like everyone but she knew where she stood. To Anna Ethyl was a minor and often amusing background noise, like a fly in the room.

Still, she waited an interval before rising and heading toward the back door by which time Ethyl was slack-jawed over her magazine.

Anna walked into an empty courtyard. He stepped out from a shadow.

Anna turned to look around them. They were alone.

She went straight to him; she fell into his arms as he enclosed her. They moved together as gracefully as dancers, in perfect synch. Anna tilted her face up and parted her lips. He answered her without hesitation, caressing her mouth with his own. Anna relaxed in his arms, her body glued to his, receiving him and responding to him. It was as natural and nourishing as breathing.

Anna had been kissed before, twice; once walking home from school by an older boy who jumped on her to steal a kiss and who went home with a swollen eye for his trouble. Her second kiss was at a village dance. Both had been rushed, clumsy, soggy affairs that reminded her of being punched with a wet rag.

She had never questioned what kissing John Bates would be like. She had conjured it a hundred times and knew that his gentleness and his maturity would be wonderful things in this situation; they were. He was tender but confident, following her cravings. The more he teased her and the more she opened to him, the more she wanted to take him inside in every possible way, to cradle the little boy in him she had glimpsed at times, to sooth the worried man, to consume him in joy, to keep him safe. By giving herself, even if only with stolen kisses in the back courtyard, she took him in. He was hers.

He left a last tiny kiss on her upper lip, beaming down at her. He was more at ease than she had ever seen him right now, calm and sweet; for a moment she glimpsed the younger John who had not been wounded, who hadn't been manipulated and betrayed. She gave a little sob suddenly and he pulled her close. Anna wanted to see him like this every day. She wanted his fears and hurts to fade. She wanted him content and laughing, knowing that he was loved. She wanted him to come home to her and drop all his guard when he came in the door, to relax in her arms, to expect her kisses. She wanted him happy.

* * *

*From _Romeo and Juliet_ by William Shakespeare


	22. Chapter 22

Anna pulled herself from the window. The carriage was out of sight. She left the spare front bedroom and made toward the servant's quarters, wondering if she would be able to eat breakfast. Her stomach told her no. She rounded the corner to see Mrs. Hughes who came directly to her, putting a hand on her shoulder and looking into her face.

"You can't go about like this,"

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Hughes. I'll-"

"You'll go to bed, is what you'll do. With those swollen eyes you'll be a sight,"

"I-I'm sor-"

"Don't apologize, Anna. I want you to take the half day off," she patted her shoulder. "This is a terrible blow, I know. And none of this is your fault,"

"It's not his fault, either. It's-"

"I know," Mrs. Hughes began walking with Anna back toward the women's quarters.

Anna stopped in front of her bedroom door. "You know? But-"

"Never mind. I'll need you back to work tonight for the dressing gong," she left the room. Anna took off her cap. She sat on her bed, looking at the floor, seeing him riding off in the carriage again next to Vera. She was jolted from it by a knock. Mrs. Hughes closed the door behind her.

"Why aren't you in your nightgown yet?"

"I-I'm-"

"I want you to rest today," Mrs. Hughes carried a glass half-full of amber liquid. "I don't believe in laudanum," she said, "Nor this type of thing except on very special occasion. But there are times in life when one needs a little extra help,"

Then Mrs. Hughes did the most surprising thing of all. She sat on the bed next to Anna and put her arm around her shoulders. Anna gave way, letting the pain spill while Mrs. Hughes rocked her. Mrs. Hughes then gave her a handkerchief, let Anna blow her nose, and handed her the glass of whiskey.

"We can manage until tonight," she said, "But if you ever need a moment, you let me know. Alright?"

* * *

Anna's hands were shaking as she tied Lady Mary's braid. The whiskey had worn off and she had even slept a bit, but she hadn't been able to eat today. In addition, the shock still made her feel light-headed and hollow.

Lady Mary reached back and took her hand, making eye contact with Anna in the mirror.

"Look at us, Anna. Two broken hearts. It really does feel like war,"

Anna panicked; how was she to keep her feelings contained? She was half into a choked apology when Lady Mary turned from the vanity and held Anna's hand with both of her own. "It's alright, Anna. How many times have you come to my rescue? Please don't worry about being sad in front of me now. I'm so sorry for what happened. I can't believe he did that to you, you of all people,"

"He didn't. He would never do such a thing. His wife is behind it, I know it,"

"It's just horrid. Is there anything I can do?"

"You have done, My Lady," Anna finally gathered herself, "Thank you,"

Anna busied herself with Lady Mary's dress and shoes, preparing to take them for cleaning. She was about to leave the room, but stopped at the door.

"My Lady-"

"Yes?"

"Do you...do you ever pray?"

Lady Mary would have given anyone else a reassuring smile and told them of course, and left it at that. But she blinked at Anna.

"Not much since I was a child. I don't like the feeling, asking for favors I might not even deserve,"

Anna smiled. "It can be much more than that, if you don't mind my saying, My Lady. Prayer can be...a way you can send your love to someone. Or a way to unburden your heart. Or a way to ask for things on behalf of another,"

"Yes," Lady Mary looked softly at Anna, "I suppose that's true. And it has been quite a long time. I would feel myself a bit of a fraud, you know,"

"Why?" this was a bold crossing of the divide, but Lady Mary didn't notice. The divide had closed for the moment.

"You know why, Anna. I'm no saint. I'm not even..."

"It's not so much about the church I mean," said Anna, "All of us deserve to be heard, I think. And we all deserve grace, if we seek it,"

Lady Mary stared at Anna.

"I'm so glad that I know you," she said.

Anna felt tears starting again as she opened the door. "And you, My Lady,"

* * *

Anna sat in the chair next to Ethyl's bed, holding her hand. The both wiped their faces.

"That wife he's got," said Ethyl.

"I don't want to talk about that," said Anna.

"Well, she is a beastie, in't she? A big beastie, too. If I were him I'd be scared of her. Voice like a wolf,"

"Ethyl-"

"I'm sorry it happened to you," said Ethyl. "You're the one who's nicest to me, Anna. It's dreadful what happened, and I won't talk about it anymore. I promise,"

* * *

Anna unpinned her hat as she walked through the meadow; a light rain was falling and it was cold so it was a strange thing to do, but it felt good. She wanted the cold on her face. The Sunday service had been prayers to send English soldiers bravery and good fortune. Anna had lingered among the other parishioners, stopping to say Hello to Mrs. Ellsworth, who had a grandson and a nephew at the Front, and the Bigneys, who had just sent their youngest son to war. Now that she was deep in the meadow and alone she allowed herself another cry, but this one was for more than herself. Her heart seemed to crack open when she thought of all the men at the front facing bombs and horrors and the people who loved them never seeing them again.

Anna worried about John but she could expect that he was alive, that he was walking around in the world and making the best of things as they were. She knew that wherever he was he was being kind to people, being strong for people and looking out for them. She closed her eyes as the wind picked up, sobbing a little as she pictured him walking, saw his wonderful eyes, heard that voice she loved. _Let him be well. Let him be as happy as possible, let him be blessed._

It gave Anna such comfort to bless him in her heart, to send him her love. It had become her solace. When she missed him and grieved what would never be hers, she blessed him and her mood lightened. She was able to get about to her duties again, able to think and do what she needed to do. She saw his face in her mind and whispered into the cold wind, "Bless you, John. Bless you, my dear,"

* * *

Anna was in love with his belly. She was licking and kissing him, nuzzling the slight softness and the light fuzz that tickled her nose. His skin trembled slightly under her lips; she moved up over his chest, tasting him and sighing on him. He pulled her up but she was light as air, nearly floating over him, trying to hold on to him. He held her wrists and pulled her down. She slid slowly onto him and a long, long gasp escaped her. Pleasure ripped through her in waves, an insanely intense pleasure that woke her like a slap. She lay tingling, throbbing, heaving with it, and with a faint taste of him in her mouth. She was wrapped around her pillow with the entire quilt bunched between her knees.

Like a pounding rain following hard on an electrical storm, the tears came. Anna folded her pillow over her face and had a good moaning cry, gasping and coughing, her heart pounding, choking into the pillow. When it finally subsided she flipped the pillow onto her stomach and lay breathing and sniffing, her hair in knots. Ethyl's snoring was rising again; Anna decided that it was one of her favorite things about Ethyl.

Anna sighed. She thought of a thing she had never seen in England but had in the paintings of the American West and of Africa: virga. It was rain that never reached the thirsty ground. She knew what it was like to be that ground, to see the misty curtains of what she longed for hanging tantalizingly close but never to be hers, to live with a longing never slaked. It was the price of loving him. Loving him was the best thing she had ever known. Sometimes it scraped her raw but it would be far worse to be without it. The longing kept him close. It was all she still had of him.

Now the fatigue descended. Anna punched her pillow and levered it under her head, shook out her quilt and threw it over herself and returned to her little ritual, the ritual she practiced when the candle when out, when the sun came up, when the day slowed, whenever she had a moment to breathe.

_Bless you, John, may you be well. May you be happy. I hope you are happy. I wish you all the happiness in the world. Be happy, my darling.  
_

Her heart eased. She slept.


	23. Chapter 23

"Why is everyone nipping at each other so?" said Ethyl as they pulled the coverlet over Lady Mary's bed.

"Remember that everyone has known a loss, even if it's not their own, Ethyl," Anna gathered the pillowcases; though today was not a day to change the sheets she liked to put on fresh pillowcases more often, since Mr. Crawley had gone back to the Front. It was a minor comfort but would be nice for Lady Mary having fresh linen to cry on if she needed to. "If you don't know someone who is at the Front, then you know someone who has someone there, so it touches all of us. And Mr. Carson has to carry Downton at all times. It's upon him to make sure it runs as a great house should and he doesn't have the staff he needs to do it properly right now,"

"But Miss O'Brien-"

"Best keep to yourself there. And keep your hands clean. Good policy in general but in particular around Miss O'Brien,"

"But why is she like that?"

John had once told Anna a very funny story he had heard about rhinos. The rhino, that enormous one-horned creature, was a self-appointed firefighter. It would storm into a camp and stomp out fires that men made for cooking, and then leave. This image was hugely amusing to Anna and reminded her of Miss O'Brien. O'Brien hated anything uncommon, extraordinary, new, or as she saw it, out of order. She would stomp in, whether it was her business or not, to right things according to her own estimation. She had no discretion when she did it, nor compassion. It was why she had gone after John; she had hated him at first sight of his cane. But this need to have "business as usual" made her compulsive and a bit dangerous. Anna kept her eye on Miss O'Brien, as one would a rhino in the bush.

"Everyone has their reasons for being as they are," said Anna. "You can't ever know the whole of a person. Each of us is a mystery,"

"Well, she's a mystery all right. She's a-"

"Ethyl, it's not a good habit to speak ill of people. You'll be caught out one day. And it never improves a situation, anyway. What's ever to be gained by it?"

"I'd feel better for the moment,"

"Well, then tell it to yourself or write it in a journal. None of us are perfect. Don't pour bile in people's ears," Anna leaned forward to catch the girl's eye. "You do know there's a war on?"

* * *

Anna watched Miss O'Brien across the table speaking to Mr. Lang and wondered if the woman might not be growing a conscience. Heroics did show themselves in difficult times; would war make a human being of Miss O'Brien as well? Anna had a twinge of guilt at this thought. Of course she was a human being - just a limited one.

Anna watched poor, shattered Mr. Lang trying to polish buttons with his trembling hands. Could that happen to anyone? What made some people so strong and others more frail? Was it character, or was it something as simple as timing? Could the bravest person, in a moment of weakness, be caught by the forces of war and demolished when that very same person, on another day, could walk away intact from the same thing?

And...was that how John became who he was? He would keep others together, keep their morale strong, bring out the best in them even under unthinkable pressure. Anna set her tea cup in its saucer and bit her lip. She imagined him next to her just for an instant, remembering how reassuring it had been and how sensuous, just to look over and see his shoulders move back when he drank water, to watch his long fingers tapping ash off a cigarette, to catch the scent of the the back of his neck when she stood behind him.

Still John, who was so kind and brave, so outspoken and profoundly confident did have his vulnerability; he was only insecure about his footing in this world of petty intrigue because he was unable to think like Thomas or O'Brien. _An eagle_, thought Anna,_ can't think like a rat_.

Anna's stomach clenched with missing him. Right now she missed the force of his personality. Most people tended to act just a bit better around Mr. Bates. He exuded well-bred kindness, he emanated strength, he made most people in the room act better because they_ wanted _to. Anna missed sitting next to that force, that presence. She had known it was a pleasure but now she missed it as a refuge.

* * *

When Anna paused for a moment on the stair landing, or at the top of the stairs, or in the hallway - spots where she had had moments with John, she drew the memory of him to herself. After a few weeks it wasn't as painful and she even took comfort from it.

How many others were feeling as she did now? How many mothers saw their sons' bedrooms empty, how many wives had to remember to fry fewer eggs? The whole world around her echoed with loss. The one thing that Anna was spared was the terror. The bravery in the people she knew moved her, and she would do all she could for them.

It was important to go softer on people at times like this. Anna felt a little rush of gratitude. At any other time she might feel much more alone in her sorrow but now she felt a part of everyone's loss, and that gave her peace. She was not alone and she could be useful to people who were grieving or afraid.

* * *

Anna's brain ticked down the lists of after-dinner clean up as she made for the kitchen. Serving dinner was extra work, but she was glad of it; she had less time to feel sorry for herself and it was an extra distraction to be in the room when the family was talking. Now she was privy to the tidbits she usually had to drag out of the footmen. She looked up and saw Mr. Carson coming out of his office.

Mr. Carson stopped in the corridor; something in his bearing made Anna stop as well. He looked down at her, tight-mouthed. Anna waited. He put his hand on her elbow, his eyes on hers. Then he patted her elbow. Anna smiled at him. Mr. Carson smiled back at her, then went on.

It was his apology for snapping at her.

Anna smiled to herself as she went on to the kitchen.

Men.

* * *

Anna sighed as she climbed the stairs to dress Lady Mary for dinner. Mr. Mosely would try again. And she would have to take the opportunity to level with him.

Mr. Mosely was very sweet, and charmingly delicate. Anna imagined that a woman could talk very freely to Mr. Mosely in a certain way, since he understood the feminine point of view. A glimpse at "_Elizabeth and Her German Garden" _had told her that, if his manner hadn't. He wasn't like Thomas, but Mr. Mosely would make a good confidant to some women, she imagined, and a gentle husband to a lucky woman someday. He was very kind.

But "Just we two," as he had said, was not to be.

Anna's mother's voice was crystal clear in her head. "In matters of the heart, my darling Anna, speak honestly, speak soon, and speak kindly. Never leave a man wondering where you stand. Be clear and forthright, but not too blunt. They are much more fragile than they look,"

* * *

_Dear John;_

_I will never send this letter. But I have to write it._

_I hope you are finding some happiness. I want that more than anything._

_Of course I still want you. I will always want you. I will dream of you all my life long. All the details of you, your beautiful eyes that I miss so much, especially when they are on me, your big, warm hands, your velvet voice. I miss you terribly. And I miss your strength, your decency, your nobility. I didn't think I could take you for granted, but I did take some of your character for granted because it felt like home to me. I had started to think of us together, rather than each of us alone. With you gone, there are things I miss about you that I didn't know I would ever be without.  
_

_Please be happy. In any way you can._

_Some nights I dream of you kissing me, when I can stand it. Some nights I can't bear it. But I always miss you, my friend, the man I love, the man I always wanted. I'm grateful that I had you as long as I did, that I was able to know you, that I even had kisses from you. How fortunate I am to have had that! I have something wonderful to miss and to remember._

_I adore you. Please be happy._

_All my love. Always._

_Anna_


	24. Chapter 24

He was waiting outside the book shop for her. Anna shifted her shopping basket to her right arm and slowed her stride. He smiled.

The sight of him made her forget to breathe; she was suddenly muddled. She never seemed to remember quite how fine he was. Tall and elegant in his black coat and bowler hat, his eyes on her so warm. Anna stopped in front of him and had to take an extra beat.

"Hello," he said.

"You...look...very fine," said Anna.

His eyes went down, then back up, taking her in. "I can't begin," he said.

Anna made a sound between a laugh and a hiccup.

He frowned. "Let's get you some tea. You seem - a bit breathless today,"

"Are you daft?" she said. "It's how I feel seeing you,"

He laughed. He turned, offering his arm. She took it. They began to walk slowly past Ripon Cathedral.

"How are things at Downton?"

"That poor Mr. Lang is gone. We had a close call with Mr. Branson nearly dumping a stinking mess on a visiting general by way of political statement, and then Mr. Lang had a mental breakdown in front of the general and his entourage and the household. And William stopped by on his way to the Front and got engaged to Daisy. I'd already told you a great many of the rooms have been turned in to dormitories for recovering wounded soldiers; well, Thomas is back, but he's in uniform and he's running the house. But Mr. Carson hasn't dashed his brains out yet,"

"So, nothing much to report," He arched his eyebrows at her.

"Dull as always. Do you miss it?"

"I miss you, and I miss seeing you every day. But yes, I miss Downton, too. Very much,"

"Do you never think of writing to His Lordship?"

"No. He was right. I betrayed him,"

"We both know you didn't!"

"That's how he sees it. And I won't contradict him or put him in an awkward position. Did you have an errand?"

"Oh, yes, the spice shop for Mrs. Patmore," They headed in the direction of the shop. "How are things with Vera?"

"She knows I can prove her infidelity and prove that the marriage is broken, so she has no choice now,"

"Why is she hanging on, then?" Anna stopped and looked up at him. "What can she gain now?"

He didn't answer; he swallowed.

"She's still in love with you, isn't she?"

This brought gloom over him. "I don't know how much of it is love and how much is opportunism. But you don't need to hear about all of this, Anna,"

"I need to know what's going on," Anna took his arm again and they resumed their stroll. "So she is still in love with you. When did you stop loving her?"

He sighed. "It was a long time ago,"

"Before she stole the silver?"

"Years before,"

"When did you know-"

"I realized my feelings had changed about six months into the marriage. She was not the woman I had thought I married. She seemed to change. But it isn't fair to blame her. I may have had my own illusions. I married the wrong woman,"

"And she knew you felt this way,"

"Yes. She knew," A lorry roared by on the road, so they waited to speak.

"You thought you had broken her heart,"

"How did you divine all this?"

"When I first met her. While talking to her in the servant's hall,"

"I'm sorry you were put in that position,"

"Silly. That wasn't you," said Anna. "She wanted her property back. She thinks you belong to her. It looks like more ownership than love. I've seen some people pursue an indifferent lover like a stray lamb. Belittling them, chasing after them, trying to corner them the way a farmer goes after wandering livestock. That's what she's doing to you. You feel guilty for falling out of love with her, and she uses that to manipulate you,"

"Just now, you are reminding me of my mother," He guided her down a walkway off the street, past a line of gardens.

"That's quite a compliment,"

"You have no idea," he smiled.

"Vera struck me as quite determined," said Anna, "Even desperate,"

He stopped walking; his head was tilted back in frustration.

"What is it?"

"I don't like talking about her with you because...it's as if she matters to me in a comparable way. And she never could. You are the woman I've always wanted,"

"I wrote that same thing to you in a letter,"

"What letter?"

"A letter I wrote to make myself feel better, but not to send to you,"

"May I read it?"

"I'll send it when I get back,"

"Would you? Please do send it,"

"I will,"

He faced her now. "I want to hold your hand," he said suddenly, "And I am going to take the liberty," He hung his cane over his arm and began taking off her glove, patiently tugging on the leather at her fingertips and thumb, then sliding it off her hand. His hand enveloped hers, twining their fingers, his thumb slipping into her palm. He tucked her glove in his pocket, giving her a mischievous smile. Anna's legs lost strength for an instant. She tottered; he pulled her upright. She loved his smooth, warm hand.

"If you knew how many times I sat next to you in the servant's hall, thinking of that-"

He laughed.

"What?" said Anna "Because-"

"Of course!" he was still laughing, "I thought the same thing a hundred times. A thousand times,"

"You should have done!" cried Anna.

"It would have been beyond presumptuous for me to reach under the table for your hand. For a man to do such a thing? It would border on crime. You should have done,"

"So we haven't been holding hands for years because it's my fault," she cocked her head at him.

"Well," he said, "This is one thing I don't have to wait for anymore,"

She took a breath and opened her mouth to remind him again. He interrupted her.

"But some things," he brought her fingers to his lips as he gazed at her, "I do,"


End file.
